


Sebastian & The Pauper

by Tweenie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tweenie/pseuds/Tweenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contemptuous physics professor, Sebastian Michaelis, finds himself in an odd situation when he rescues a dying child from the unforgiving streets of London. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Sebastian's point of view.

His lashes fluttered slowly as his tired eyes adjusted to his surroundings, like little black butterflies landing swiftly on sweet smelling morning glories. It was difficult to notice anything other than the boy's left iris, which shone like a sparkling sapphire. It's color was more brilliant than any sky I had seen in my short life. It was clear that his right eye was once the same brilliant blue, some of it was still visible under the white glaze that covered it. This child was partially blind. 

The boy glanced ignorantly around the room for a moment before realizing he was in a foreign environment. He sat up quickly, only to find himself grow dizzy and collapse back onto my bed. After his head stopped spinning he tried again but his frail body didn't allow him to budge. I put my hands on either side of his emaciated chest and applied a little pressure, urging him to stay put.

“You really shouldn't move around so much. You're going to exhaust yourself,” I told him gently. He stared up at me through his shimmering left eye, having closed his right. “Come now, you must be hungry.” He didn't answer, opting instead to glare at me with that beautiful eye. It would have been quite intimidating even, if not for the fact that I seemed to be so captivated by this strange child's eyes. 

I took it upon myself to assume he was quite hungry, judging by his scrawny figure. I left him there, trusting him not to try to leave. Not that he could anyway, given the fact that he could barely sit up, let alone stand. I busied myself with making him a chicken sandwich and vegetable soup with a tall glass of milk. I doubted he would be able to eat it all, but at least he'd get proper nutrients that he, undoubtedly, has not gotten in quite some time. 

I put his meal on a tray and took it back to my room. He was lying in the same spot I had left him in, his left eye darting rapidly around the room. I set the tray down on my bedside table. He turned his head toward me, still wearing that almost intimidating glare. I put my hands under his arms and grasped his sides as gingerly as I could, fearing that I might break him if I was too rough. I lifted him up into a sitting position. He still didn't make a sound. I set the tray on his lap, but kept the milk on the table. His little legs were shaking so badly I was sure it would have fallen over if I left it on the clattering tray. 

“Well?” I questioned when he didn't move, “Aren't you hungry?” He remained silent, staring down at the tray in horror, as if he had a bleeding fetus resting in his lap. Surely his stomach hadn't shrunk so much that merely looking at food made the boy ill?

Without much thought, I reached for his plate and tore a small piece off of the sandwich. I brought it to his trembling lips. He backed away at first but once the smell of the freshly cut chicken breasts and tomatoes wafted into his nose, he opened his mouth just enough for me to place the tiny morsel on his tongue. He chewed and swallowed the offering quickly. After having a bit of a taste, he greedily got to work feasting on the rest of my food. 

Even though he couldn't eat it all, he managed to finish three quarters of the sandwich and half of the soup. He didn't get too far with the milk, after a few sips he found himself far too full. I could tell he was nauseous by the way he moved his hand to rest on his belly. 

I took the tray away, placing it on my kitchen counter to clean up later. Right now, I had a more pressing matter to tend to. I returned to my room to find the boy sighing contentedly, his eyes closed tightly. I was almost positive that he wouldn't have done that had he known I was standing there. 

I cleared my throat to get his attention. He jolted briefly, turning his head frantically to look, or rather glare, at me. I approached my bed, setting a glass of water down beside him. 

“So, I was kind enough to feed you and allow you to sleep in my bed. Can I have a name at least?” I asked sweetly. It wasn't like me to be so charitable. I must be out of sorts. 

The boy sat there uselessly for some time, his blind eye still covered by his beautiful pale eyelid. I sighed when I realized he wasn't going to speak. Perhaps he was mute? Wouldn't that just be the most unfortunate turn of events? One would think being partially blind was bad enough. If he is mute, is he educated enough to be able to communicate through notes? 

What I found myself most curious about, however, was the reason I was so entranced by this half blind street urchin. I still had no clue as to why I bothered to help him in the first place. Honestly, I have a life of my own to worry about. Now, I have to care for this mysterious child as well. What on earth am I doing?

“Ciel. . .” He muttered. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn't catch it. But at least I knew he wasn't mute. 

“Pardon?” I asked, hoping that he would be cooperative and repeat it. 

“Ciel,” he said again, much louder. Ciel? Is he French, I wonder? That is certainly an interesting name. It has the air of an aristocrat about it. Of course, that is just speculation on my part. I suppose it doesn't really prove anything about the boy's parentage. 

“Well Ciel, it's nice to meet you, I am Sebastian Michaelis,” I said, extending my left hand out to him. He just stared at it skeptically. Okay, perhaps he wasn't aristocrat. 

“What do you want with me?” He asked, his expression serious and his voice surprisingly low for a boy of his age. How old is he anyway? I stared down at him, my face surely conveying my confusion well.

“What do you mean?” I asked with an innocent smile. He scowled. 

“Why did you really bring me here? Whatever it is, please get to it, I'm growing impatient.” His voice rang loudly throughout my small bedroom. It was a demanding voice, one clearly belonging to an enforcer, not simply a helpless child. 

“Well, I believe I already have 'gotten to it', as you say. I brought you here because I wanted to help you. Is it so difficult to believe that I might not wish to see a child die in the streets?” He scoffed. 

“Do you think you're being noble?” Ciel asked sarcastically after a moment. I almost couldn't believe my ears. Was this child really so insolent as to get cocky with a stranger who very well may have saved his life. “Did you consider that I was exactly where I wanted to be and you stole me away from it?” I chuckled lightly as he turned his angry glare to his own tiny hands. I think I understand now. 

“I am sorry if you are disappointed. But you won't be going anywhere for a while. Once you are well enough to stand, you are welcome to leave. Until then, I recommend you stay put and get some rest,” I said, helping him lie back down. What a bothersome child. He sighed in defeat. It was obviously clear to him that I was right. Until he was able to stand again, he wouldn't be going anywhere without my help. He closed his left eye and snuggled a little further into my comforter. 

I flipped the light off and left him in peace. I tended to the dirty dishes I'd left in the kitchen earlier, finding it to be quite a waste to throw out the bits that he couldn't finish. It wasn't until I finished tidying up the family room that I realized I had neglected my work. It was quite late and I was exhausted but it couldn't be put off any longer. It seems that, due to my sudden charitable impulses, I wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little narrative will be switching points of view between Ciel & Sebastian periodically. Such as with this chapter, each one will give you a little heads up. XD 
> 
> Additionally, the chapter titles aren't simply random animals. They represent an animal Sebastian is associating Ciel with during each particular chapter. He knows very little about the boy, so he is looking very closely at his mannerisms, which remind him something of various animals. In chapter one, he sees him as a lamb. Lambs are known for being cute and innocent.


	2. Rat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Sebastian's POV. Also, _prolonged italicized text usually indicates a deviation from the normal context of the story. (ie thoughts, dreams, flashbacks, etc.) Please bear that in mind for this chapter and throughout the rest of the story._

_“Professor Michaelis?” my most annoying pupil asked, waving his hand frantically in the air. Ugh. . . I hate Mondays. Sighing to myself, I set my book down and turned to face him._

_“Yes, Mr. Finnian? I asked calmly, despite my throbbing headache._

_“I don't really understand what you're saying. So, to determine the refractive index you need to apply Snell's Law?” He says, scratching the back of his head with his pencil. How many more days until the weekend? Honestly, will this dunderhead ever understand my lectures?_

_“No, Mr. Finnian. Snell's Law only applies when there is an interference between a medium with index of refraction n1 and another medium with index refraction n2. Please pay attention.” He didn't seem to comprehend my explanation but didn't question me further. I can't imagine having to deal with this idiot for another semester._

_I carried on with the lecture, with a few interruptions here and there. I made a point to instruct all students to see me privately if they have any questions but it seemed as though my ignorant students couldn't quite grasp the concept._

_To make matters worse, I made the mistake of assigning a five page essay on the differences between specular reflection and diffuse reflection last week, leaving me busy grading them this week. Surely their papers will be an endless source of amusement. Still, it was such a bother._

_Once my last class ended and all my students had gone, I shoved my books into my bag and hurried out of the building. I couldn't stand the smell of the place any longer. Books and paper. . . cheap cologne and aftershave. . . It was sickening._

_The second I was out the door I found myself soaked. It was nearing the end of summer and it had been quite hot these last few days. Now that I think about it, the forecast said there would be rain today. It was refreshing to say the least. Thunder rolled faintly in the distance._

_My house is just on the other side of the student dormitories. That being the case, I don't feel much of a need to drive to work. But even though I like the rain, I would rather not have to walk home in it. I will have to have a nice big cup of warm soup when I get back._

_I took a back alley nearby to quicken my route. I had used it several times in rainy weather, it made my walk five whole minutes shorter. The overhang on the buildings also helped keep me somewhat dry. It was difficult to hear much of anything with the rain beating down loudly on the aluminum awnings, but ever so faintly, there it was. . ._

_A feeble whimper. So silent, it truly was a miracle I heard it at all. I decided I shouldn't trouble myself with it. I was in a great hurry to get home. It was probably just some filthy animal anyway. It wasn't until I was nearing the end of the alley that it occurred to me that it could've been a stray cat. . ._

_I couldn't just leave it there in the rain. It was just like me to disregard any form of life besides that of a feline. I couldn't care less about humans. And I absolutely loathed canines. I often find myself caring for any stray cat I find. That is, I feed them. Mostly they just gather at my door for food and sprint away after their hunger has been satisfied._

_Turning on my heel, I headed back into the depths of that back alley, in search of the source of that pathetic sound. I reached the spot where I had heard it, craning my neck to peer behind the rubbish bin. There, lying helplessly on the cold concrete, was a young boy._

_His clothes barely fit his tiny little frame. Slate colored hair fell messily over bulging eyelids, which were resting loosely over his undoubtedly large eyes. It was difficult to tell if the gaunt child was even alive. His chest was shockingly still, it seemed as though he wasn't breathing at all._

_Of course, I just had to turn around, didn't I? For more than just a moment, I considered walking away and leaving the boy. It is what I would normally do. I am just that kind of horrible. After all, if he wasn't dead yet, he was certainly close. There probably isn't much I could do for him anyway. Besides, taking care of stray cats is one thing. A stray child is something completely different. He's not my responsibility._

_Even so, I found myself leaning down behind the bin and checking for any sign of life in the frail boy. It was low, but I could feel a tiny little pulse beating slowly through his fragile chest. He shifted a bit when I brought my hand to his head. He didn't have a fever._

_Without thinking, I picked him up gently and wrapped him in my jacket. His head rolled back over my left arm as I attempted to situate him a little more comfortably. He was far too light in my arms. Surely he was starving to death. I carried on down the alley, wondering what I was doing._

_It was so stupid. I have my own problems to worry about. What was I going to do once I got home anyway? I couldn't feed him anything until he wakes up. . . if he wakes up. What if he dies? What do I do then? I couldn't take him to a hospital right now. I can't afford that. I should've just left him._

_It isn't too late to turn back. I could just put him back where I found him. Maybe I should. . ._

_He stirred slightly and let out another tiny whimper. I glanced down at him, finding myself somewhat fixated on his long glossy black eyelashes. Despite the fact that the child was filthy and destitute, he was admittedly adorable. His face was thin, yet his cheeks remained surprisingly full. His childlike features were only accentuated more by his tiny, Kewpie doll mouth and round eyes._

_I exhaled deeply and kept walking until I reached my front door. It was exceedingly simple to reposition the underweight boy so that I could support him with just my right arm, his chest resting against mine and his head lying limply over my shoulder. I used my free hand to fish my key out of my pocket and open my front door._

_I set my bag down on my couch and carried the child into my bedroom. I would have to wash my blankets later. Between the awning and my jacket, the boy had managed to remain mostly dry. Still, he was filthy. I pulled the covers over him swiftly._

_I was quite cold and desperately wanted some soup, but I couldn't tear my scarlet eyes away from the slumbering child, regret and panic still eating away at my psyche. In spite of that, it was difficult to turn away. There was something so intriguing about him. He did remind me something of a cat. The slender contours of his body and his full, angelic face were so very feline. I wouldn't be too surprised if he opened his eyes, only to reveal two colossal yellow orbs._

_But he isn't a cat. He's a human. . . Which is unquestionably much more high maintenance than a cat. What am I to do. What a ridiculous set of circumstances I've encountered._

_I left the boy briefly, in favor of a cup of that soup I had been craving all day. It was wonderfully warm and welcoming, easing my worries for just a moment. After I finished though, they all came flooding back to me. This day couldn't get any more bizarre._

_I rinsed out my cup and hurried back to my room to check on my new house guest. He was still sleeping peacefully, the gradual rise and fall of his chest now much more noticeable from afar. My goodness, he's small. You could likely break him in two with a mere flick of your finger. His little, pencil thin legs shuffled spastically under the blankets. He whimpered once again, still squirming madly, as though trying to run away from something menacing. This was certainly going to be problematic. . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Sebastian saw him as a rat. Rats are often associated with filth, disease, and anything unsightly. Rats are also known to be scavengers and, often times, pests.


	3. Heron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter is in Sebastian's POV.

I woke to the sound of the alarm on my cell phone, barely able to decipher the line between my dream and reality. All of that had actually happened, hadn't it? Of course it had. If it hadn't, I wouldn't have slept on my uncomfortable sofa. I sat up and tried, to no avail, to crack my aching back. Today was going to be a treat. . . 

I shuffled sleepily into my kitchen to prepare breakfast for myself and my guest. Hmm, he needs something with nutrients. . . Oatmeal. That's quick and healthy. Maybe toast to go with it. And orange juice. Yes, that would be good. 

I found that I had just enough oatmeal for the two of us. How lucky. I popped some bread into the toaster and got to work mixing the oatmeal. I wondered for just a moment if Ciel was still alive. He seemed to be doing a little bit better when I left him last night, but anything's possible. Maybe he even managed to stand up and walk right out of here while I was asleep. I laughed out loud. What nonsense. Of course he didn't. He couldn't even sit up on his own. He's far too weak. Certainly I am just being paranoid.

I finished buttering the toast just as the microwave beeped, desperately screaming for me to remove the oatmeal from within its chamber. I already had quite an aching headache from sleeping on my cheap sofa. The incessant beeping wasn't helping at all. I should really consider seeing a doctor about these constant headaches. 

I took some pain pills and grabbed the oatmeal, placing it on a tray with the rest of Ciel's breakfast. When I entered my bedroom I was greeted by the sight of my little stray lying right where I had left him, fast asleep. It was equal parts adorable and irritating. I still wasn't too keen on the idea of caring for a filthy little orphan, nor was I sure why I was troubling myself with it to begin with. Setting the tray down, I shook him gently. 

“Ciel? Would you like some breakfast?” I whispered, trying not to startle him. His massive eyes eased open. It took a moment for him to process that he was still in my bed. Once his memory had been revived, he tried to sit up himself, only to flop back onto the bed, much like he had the night before. It seemed he hadn't gotten any of his strength back yet.

I helped him to sit up and set the tray on his lap. He devoured the meal with the ravenous demeanor of a carnivorous feline. It was a stark contrast to the manner in which he was eating last night. He may not have regained his strength, but he certainly got his appetite back. 

Despite that, his shrunken stomach still couldn't handle too much. He finished all of the oatmeal and most of his toast. I practically had to force the orange juice down his throat. He was getting into the habit of eating until he was full and leaving no room for anything to drink. 

I took the tray and carried it back to the kitchen, where I quickly ate my, now somewhat cold, oatmeal and toast, then rinsed off the dishes and went to get ready for work. After a quick shower, I climbed into my brown suit. How I hated the color brown. I only wear this monstrosity because my preferred color, black, is a tad too formal for lectures. I could dress a bit more casually but I steadfastly refuse. I feel like a fool in anything other than a suit. It speaks volumes about my character. Perhaps not in a good way, but I could care less. 

I strolled back into my room to check on Ciel one last time. He was staring blankly at the wall across from him, careful to keep his right eye closed. 

“I'll be back around noon for lunch,” I told him, as I adjusted my tie. He turned to me, still with no expression on his tiny face. “Is there anything you need before I go?” He seemed to think about it for a moment but responded with a solemn; “no.” I nodded and let him be. He is either very shy or just extremely guarded. Either way, he is a pain. A precious, adorable pain. 

I rushed down the street, realizing that I dawdled a little too long at home and am now running late to my first class. I took the alley again, just to quicken my arrival. As I passed the spot where I had found Ciel, I spotted a little black piece of cloth lying beside the rubbish bin. I stopped to inspect it, albeit I was already late for class. It appeared to be a dirt stained silk eye patch. It must belong to Ciel. There couldn't be too many people around here who would discard an eye patch. I pocketed it, with the intent to wash it and return it to him later. 

When I arrived in my classroom, my students were all sitting with their heads on their desks, half asleep. I slammed my bag onto my desk, making them all jolt awake.

“So sorry for my tardiness class. I had pressing matters to tend to at home, but I am here now. Let's begin, shall we?” I said with a false smile. A great few of them put their heads back on their desks, having partied a bit too hard the night before. The rest pulled out notebooks and pens to take notes on a subject they couldn't even kind of comprehend. What a great group of fools. . .

After my first couple classes ended, I shoved my things into my bag and hurried back home. After all, I only had an hour until my next class. Ciel was still sitting up, staring at the wall through his left eye. I smiled, though I had not intended to. 

“You must be quite bored,” I said sympathetically, realizing after I had said it that it was somewhat insensitive to suggest sitting in a comfortable bed and being well fed was not sufficient.

“I'm not,” he muttered calmly. 

“Either way, I have a working television. You're welcome to it,” I said, grabbing the remote and flipping the TV on. I set it down next to him. He looked at me as though I'd grown a second head. I just grinned down at him. “Are you hungry?” He seemed to shake off whatever it was he had been thinking about and turned his beautiful cerulean eye toward me.

“A little,” he said sheepishly. I grinned wider and excused myself to go make us both some lunch.

I had been awake most of the night, hunched over my coffee table, grading essays. It wasn't until 2 AM that I actually decided to go to sleep on my sofa, which kept me up for an hour or so, tossing and turning. My head was still throbbing on top of it all. Through all that, I managed to keep my energy heightened and my senses sharp. It was a specialty of mine. 

I prepared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us, with a small glass of milk. I figured it wouldn't hurt to give him something fattening, he could afford to have a little extra meat on his bones. We both ate in my bedroom, while voices from my TV echoed off of the walls. He seemed hypnotized by the screen. Well, he was still a child. TV has a way of holding a child's attention. 

For the first time since I brought him home, he was actually able to finish everything I had given him, even the milk. Although, it was clear it had filled him up to the point of nausea. I took away the tray and cleaned up the dishes. When I went back to check on him, he had turned the channel and was now watching Home TV, with a barely visible grin gracing his pale pink lips. I walked up to him and gave his dirty gray hair a pat. He just glared up at me as though I'd overstepped my boundaries. It was another one of those icy glares that would have been frightening, if it wasn't so adorable. 

“Goodbye Ciel,” I said cheerfully. He turned back to the TV, without saying a word. As to be expected. I strolled out my front door, feeling extremely pleasant, even though I was ridiculously exhausted. For some reason that I could not identify, I just felt happy. It certainly wasn't like me. That's it, I need to make a doctors appointment immediately. . .

The remainder of my classes went swimmingly. I was able to complete my lectures with no interruptions, surprisingly enough. The only thing that was worrisome was this necessity I felt to get back home. Ciel wasn't going anywhere, not yet anyway, but I couldn't shake this feeling that he wouldn't be there when I got home. Why should I care if he wants to leave? Perhaps single life is starting to get to me. I don't even really have any friends. None that I see regularly. . . or really enjoy being around, for that matter. Ciel seems to be the only companion I have. Maybe I should get a pet. . . 

On my way out, I stopped by the dean's office, still in something of a hurry. He was chatting, unwillingly apparently, with a red haired colleague of mine. The poor dean was always being harassed by Grell, who made it obvious to everyone that he had a thing for. . . well, everyone. The red head seemed to be particularly hot for our boss though. Aforementioned boss was leaning on his giant oak desk on his elbow, rubbing his temple.

“Ahem,” I intruded. Grell stopped gabbing and turned to face me. 

“Ah! Sebas. . . I mean, Professor Michaelis! What are you doing here?” He asked excitedly, intertwining his fingers and bringing them to his face. My boss looked up, his expression unchanging, as it always was, but I could tell he was somewhat happy to see me. 

“Yes, what brings you here, Professor?” he asked.

“I came to request some time off actually. . .” I said, a bit more shamefacedly than I had intended. Dean William Spears adjusted his glasses, glaring at me from behind the thick black frames. 

“Absolutely not. Finals are one week away. You need to prepare your students,” he said flatly. I just knew that if it had been anyone else asking the same question, he would probably say yes. This man has always hated me. Granted, I've never been much of a fan of his either. 

“Please sir, my sister is ill and I now have to care for my nephew,” I lied. It wasn't too far from the truth. He wasn't my nephew, but he was still a child, and a difficult one at that. 

“No. I'm sorry, Professor Michaelis. We all have problems. It's your duty to balance your responsibilities.” What a prick. . . I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that this man wasn't going to budge on this. 

“Yes sir,” I said politely. Kissing your bosses ass certainly left a bad taste in your mouth. . . With that, I left. I found myself running down the elaborate corridors, realizing that I had to hurry and get home, lest Ciel happen upon a magical fairy who would grant him the ability to stand again. 

I heard Grell running after me far off in the distance. I just ignored him and ran out of the building and rounded the corner into the alley. In a matter of minutes, I was home. I could hear the TV muttering softly in my bedroom. 

When I entered, Ciel was still sitting against my headboard, watching Changing Rooms. It seemed to be amusing him a little. I noticed the smudges of dirt on his round cheeks. Only then did it occur to me that he was in desperate need of a bath. He jolted when he caught sight of my figure standing in the doorway. I smiled at him. He still held the same melancholy expression he always had. 

“Hi there,” I said, “Are you hungry?” He shook his head. “You know, you could use a bath.” He gazed down at his dirty hands and frowned deeply. I let him ponder it for a while until he finally agreed with a soft nod. I walked into my bathroom and turned on the warm water. I sat there in a daze, watching the tub slowly fill with water, not really able to remember exactly how long I had been sitting there. This behavior of mine was starting to get disturbing. Although, my mental workings never really were that healthy. Lately, they've just been uncharacteristically obsessive and cheerful. Which is slightly oxymoronic if you ask me. 

Before I could blink, the water had filled half of the tub. I turned the water off and ran my hand through it, just to check the temperature. It was a nice soothing warmth that would neither burn nor chill Ciel's lily white skin. Satisfied, I went back into my bedroom to collect him. He was sitting up straight, no longer leaning against the headboard. It seemed as though he was getting a bit of his strength back. He still probably couldn't sit up entirely on his own, and he certainly couldn't stand yet. It was nice to see he was feeling a little better. Still, it was somewhat depressing. I had no doubts that once he could stand he would leave. While it's true that I feed him and care for him, it's fairly obvious he is too proud to accept charity of his own free will. And once he is gone, I would have nothing to look forward to coming home to. 

I picked him up, bridal style, and carried him into the bathroom, where I set him atop the toilet so that I could remove his filthy clothes. Slowly, so as not to scare him, I popped his buttons open and eased his shirt off of his slender shoulders. His tiny torso was covered in protruding white scars. Resting sinisterly under his left shoulder blade was a dark red brand scorched into his tender flesh, depicting a symbol that I couldn't even begin to recognize. What kind of Hell on Earth has this boy been through? 

I ignored the marks, knowing he wouldn't tell me about them if I asked. I wondered if any of them still hurt. They all looked fairly old. He winced when I began to unbutton his trousers. I paused, to allow him time to prepare for the invasion. Then, I slid them down his frail little legs, along with his undergarments. His petite figure wasn't nearly as skeletal as I expected it to be. Though it was diminutive, it was still somewhat full, like his pudgy cheeks. 

I lifted him into the air and lowered him, slowly, into the warm water. As soon as his body touched it, the clear water turned a disgusting shade of muddy brown. Well, this was going to be a chore. . . With a sigh, I exited the bathroom, grabbing his dirty clothes off of the floor. I ran into my bedroom and stripped my bed, replacing the sheets with a temporary set. I took all of the dirtied items to the laundry room for a wash. It wouldn't have been a very good idea to turn the washer on while Ciel was in the process of taking a bath. So I threw the blankets, Ciel's clothes, and the eye patch in the machine to take care of later. Then I ran back into my bathroom, only to discover the boy trying to wash himself in the dirty water. I sighed again. 

“You're not going to get very clean washing yourself in dirty water you know?” I say playfully. It does nothing to deter him from his task. 

“I know that. You just left me here though. I thought you expected me to clean myself and I've never. . .” he starts to say, before cutting himself short. 

“You've never what?” I urged, trying not to sound snarky. 

“Nothing.” he said coldly, his deep frown returning. Based on the marks decorating his body, I could understand why he'd be so guarded and distrustful. 

“Alright,” I muttered reassuringly, draining the tub and grabbing the detachable shower head. I made sure the water was a comfortable temperature before squirting him with it. Foggy brown water ran, like tiny boggy rivers, down his body and flowed carelessly into the drain. I kept spraying him until the water ran clear. Then, I filled the tub again, this time until the water nearly reached his collarbone. He sank into it, so that his whole body was submerged up to his nose. He reminded me of a crocodile preparing to strike. 

“Do you want to sit up so that I can wash you, or do you plan to prune in this tub?” I asked with a depraved smirk. He reluctantly scooted back up. I helped him lean forward and started to gently scrub his back, taking extra care not to irritate any of his wounds. He sat calmly as I washed the rest of his body, not flinching at all, even when my fingers ghosted over his most sensitive skin. 

Once he was clean, I wrapped him in one of my long towels, which ended up covering his entire body, and lifted him out of the tub. With the utmost care, I carried him back into my bedroom and set him down on my bed. When I went to my dresser to find him something to wear, he wrapped the towel tighter around his fragile arms in an attempt to keep warm. 

I stumbled upon one of my old dress shirts. It was a bit small on me, but it was sure to be far too big for him. But then again, every article of clothing I own would be too big on him. I supposed it would have to suffice for now. So, I brought it over to him and briskly threw it on him. The collar hung loosely around his shoulders and the hem reached just past his knobby knees. It wouldn't keep him very warm. I tossed back the temporary covers and placed him down gently, tucking the blankets tightly around his meager frame. 

I left him, once I was sure he was comfortable, to make myself some chicken alfredo. Instead of eating it in the kitchen, as I would normally do, I decided to go keep my house guest company and eat it in my room. The look on his face told me that, even though he had claimed he wasn't hungry, he liked the smell of my dinner. I took a few more bites before handing my bowl over to him. He stared at it questioningly for a minute. 

“You can finish it,” I explained. He hesitated at first but eventually reached up tentatively and took the bowl from my hands. He devoured the alfredo quickly. Clearly, my life will be nothing but working and caring for this child for a while. Oddly enough, I don't really mind all that much. It's troublesome, I suppose. But at the very least, I have something to occupy my time with. Though, he doesn't have too much to offer in the way of conversation. 

“So, would you like to tell me something about yourself, Ciel?” I ventured. He said nothing, just handed me the bowl and turned to look at the muted TV. “I see. I only fed you, bathed you, and gave you a comfortable bed to sleep in. . . you still can't tell me even one thing about yourself?” My tone was clearly playful. I understood, at least to a certain extent, why he would be so tight lipped. It wasn't in my nature to be understanding at all really, it was odd that I was so patient with this brat. 

Nothing about his expression conveyed any semblance of cooperation. Oh well. Without giving it too much thought, I just began talking again. 

“Well, what if I tell you some things about myself then?” I didn't wait for him to answer, I knew he wasn't going to. “I was born here in London, a little over 26 years ago. My mother was a stay at home mom and my father was a lawyer. Because of that, and my exceptional grades, I was able to attend Cambridge University.” He didn't really even seem to be listening, so I gave up. There was no talking to this kid. “Anyway, it's getting late. You should get some sleep. I'll wake you in the morning for breakfast. Good night,” I mumbled, patting his soft hair. He grunted quietly when I tucked the blankets gingerly under his delicate form. I began to retreat, stopping and turning to stare back at him once I reached the door frame. He now had both of his eyes closed tightly, with his damp hair falling in thick strands around them. Sleep tight, my little heron. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't live in the UK (where this story is set), Home TV is a television channel owned by UKTV. Changing Rooms was a show they aired on Home, similar to the American HGTV show Trading Spaces. XD
> 
> Chapter title: Herons are graceful and calm. They are also known to be loners.


	4. Peacock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

Much like the day I brought him home, his long black lashes fluttered open when I walked into my bedroom to wake him. Though, I was sure it was the delicious aroma of the eggs and bacon I had on the tray in my hand that actually aroused his consciousness. He seemed to be adjusting to his surroundings. Apparently, he still wasn't used to this living arrangement. Rightfully so, I suppose. 

I set the tray on the table before lifting him up into a sitting position. He let out a tiny squeak. If I wasn't in such a hurry, I may have stopped to tease him about how pathetic it sounded. I doubt that would've done much to put me in the stubborn child's good graces though. I set the tray on his lap, grinning madly. 

“I've already eaten breakfast. I have to get to work, so I'll see you when I get home. Do you need anything before I go?” He just shook his head wearily. 

“What is it you do for a living?” He inquired suddenly as I turned to leave. It was a rather unexpected question. In fact, it was the first sign of interest he'd displayed in front of me. I just turned back to face him and flashed a wicked smirk.

“Now, why should I tell you anything more about myself when you refuse to do the same. That's a bit unfair, wouldn't you say?” I asked teasingly. He sighed and looked at his food with that forlorn expression he wore so often. I didn't have time to talk, I was already running late for work. Still, it was a possible opportunity to learn something about this mysterious boy. 

“What do you want to know?” He asked, the look in his eyes seeming to suggest he regretted it immediately. 

“What happened to your right eye?” It was bold. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have asked that particular question right off the bat. The likelihood of him answering it was slim, at best. As I assumed, he remained quiet, glaring angrily at his food through his left eye. His right eye was squeezed shut, as per usual. That must be tiresome. . .

I walked into the laundry room, where I had folded all of the washed fabrics the night before, and grabbed the silk eye patch. He looked at it with a perplexed gaze when I presented it to him. As if to answer his unspoken question, I said;

“I found it on my way to work yesterday. It was in the alley where I found you. I washed it with your clothes last night.” I was almost sure I had witnessed a flash of a smile for a brief second when he turned his eyes back to the piece of silk in my hand. He took it from me and tied it, in a dead knot, around his head. I had to resist the urge to take it off and retie it. I was _really_ late for work now, and I couldn't lollygag any longer. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, not bothering to look up at me. 

“You're welcome,” I said before turning and running out of my house in a rush. Late for work two days in a row. What's become of me? I pride myself on punctuality. At least I used to. . . 

By the end of the day, I was beat. Taking care of Ciel, cooking, cleaning, and working, paired with little sleep, did not bode well for my level of stamina. This truly was trying. How I was going to survive finals was the true mystery. Not to mention, my day was far from over. 

My students could tell, by the bags under my eyes, that I was not doing well. Thankfully, they let me lecture and didn't speak. Granted, most of them don't care about my lectures anyway. Very few of them even take college seriously. Such a pity. . .

When I got back home, I threw my tote bag on the sofa and plopped down next to it to slip my shoes off of my aching feet. Not even a minute later, I heard a feeble “Sebastian?” echoing from my bedroom. Hmph, that boy can't let me rest for even one minute? 

“Yes! I'm coming!” I hollered. I could hear him grunt loudly in annoyance. What was so imperative that he couldn't wait the few seconds it takes me to get from my living room to my bedroom? When I finally got there, he was sitting up, rocking back and forth, wearing a look of panic.

“There you are! Where the hell were you, I have to piss like racehorse!” He screamed, holding his groin as if it would keep him from wetting himself. Without hesitation, I picked him up and carried him to the bathroom. All the while, I couldn't help but ponder his previous social status. I found it a bit strange that this was the first time I'd heard the boy use slightly foul language. Given the fact that he was an orphan, (that being the case, he had no parental guidance) one would assume he would be very foul mouthed. The way he spoke was always educated and dignified. Not at all what I would expect of poor homeless child. At first glance, he is just that. But it's clear to me now that there is much more beneath the surface. I just knew my curious nature would never let it go. 

I held him up while he relieved himself, my large shirt allowing him easy access to his equipment. To put him at ease, I looked away, as I had done during all of his past potty breaks. The fact that putting him at ease was my only motive to avert my eyes made me laugh internally. I'd be remiss if I didn't admit to having many impure thoughts. Quite honestly, I have them all the time. In addition, I have engaged myself in fantasies featuring very repelling subjects. Even so, they have yet to include a child. 

It is difficult not to fantasize about the boy. His pale silken skin, even with the scars, is the most resplendent sight I've had the pleasure of beholding. The enigmatic, far away look in his exposed eye breeds a tale of horror, pain, and rage that, to me, is so very tempting. But I've never been one to give in to foolish impulses. That's not to suggest I've never had them, I've just been smart enough to know where the line between fantasy and reality lies.

He finished his business and I carried him back into my bedroom. He sighed happily as I set him down on the bed. I left him alone for a moment, only to return a few seconds later with his, now semi clean, clothes. He huffed and struggled as I began to strip him of my shirt.

“Why are you putting me back in those rags?” he said haughtily. This child never ceased to amaze me. He always tried to maintain control, even when he clearly had none. I just smiled as I picked him up to slide his little trousers over his puny legs. 

“Because we're going out,” I said calmly. His left eye widened as confusion washed over him. 

“Going out? Where?” he asked, his voice climbing a little higher than usual. 

“To get you some new clothes. You can't wear the same outfit forever.” He seemed at a loss for words, for his exposed eye remained the size of a saucer and his mouth hung open gracelessly. 

“Are you crazy?” he sputtered eventually, “You plan to buy me clothes? You don't owe me any favors. . . what obligation do you have to buy me anything?” It was clear he was slightly irate. “Besides, how do expect me to shop when I can't even stand?” I hadn't considered that. No matter, the solution is simple. 

“Your need for clothes does not stem from any obligation on my part, it's merely a necessity if you plan to stay here,” I said, “It will be far more arduous for me to have to wash the same clothes every day. Wouldn't you agree?” He just glared incredulously at me. “As for your means of transportation, I'll carry you until we get inside, then you can sit in the shopping cart.” 

“Absolutely not!” he screamed firmly, “I will not be pushed around in a shopping cart like some sort of toddler!” As stubborn as ever. 

“You've no other option. I cannot carry you throughout the store. In any case, it would be even more humiliating if I did. And refusing is futile, simply because I'm going to do it anyway. Do tell, do you plan to just stand up and frolic away if I attempt it?” Egging him on probably wasn't the nicest thing to do, but, as it happens, I'm not a very nice guy. Ciel did have to get it through his head eventually that I am his temporary guardian. Even if I'm not the best candidate for the job. 

“Fine,” he said finally, through his teeth. I finished dressing him and carried him, gingerly, out to my black Nissan. He was pouting, with his arms crossed angrily over his slightly concave chest and his lips fixed into a tiny scowl.

Once we were on the road, the silence was almost deafening. The faint back beat reverberating from my speakers only seemed to make it more uncomfortable. Every so often, I'd glance over at him briefly to find him scowling still. A particularly short green light in the epicenter of rush hour caused a bit of traffic. He hadn't moved a muscle. For lack of anything better to do, I attempted to make conversation. 

“You know, your face looks as though its gotten its color back. I take it you're feeling a little better then?” He nodded curtly but said nothing. “So, what kind of clothes do you think you'd like to get?”

“Anything that isn't in tatters,” he says coldly, not taking his eyes away from the road ahead. 

“Come on now, surely you must have some sort of preference?” I asked playfully, hoping to brighten his foul mood a little. I should have known better than that by now. He remained silent, as I expected. No matter how many times he chose to ignore me, I was determined to break this child's defenses. As stubborn as he was, I could be stubborn too. 

For now though, I just let it go. It takes time to polish a precious jewel to perfection. We sat in silence for the remainder of the trip. When I parked in a vacant spot, I saw him sink a little lower in his seat out of the corner of my eye. I don't blame him for being nervous. 

I got out and walked over to the passengers side, careful not to bump my head as I reached in and lifted him out. As luck would have it, we parked two spaces away from a cart return. I pulled one aside and placed him in it gently. As small as he was, he was a tad bit too big for the toddler seat. Besides that, it was embarrassing enough that he couldn't walk on his own and had to be carried around. It would only give him more reasons not to trust me if I placed him there. So, I put him in the larger portion of the cart. 

The department store was buzzing with customers of all shapes, sizes, creeds, and colors. There were a few gawkers, more than likely just curious about the immobile child. Perhaps wondering why he wasn't in a wheelchair or the like. The store did provide motorized chairs for just such an occasion, but I had my doubts Ciel was qualified to ride in one. He'd likely crash it into something that I would have to pay for. This arrangement was much safer, for him and for everyone else. 

So we made our way through the swarm of flesh and sweat to the young boys clothes. The racks were full of polo shirts and khaki shorts, which somehow didn't seem to suit Ciel. Still, I displayed a few of them, holding them up to his body for comparison. His expression revealed nothing about what was going through his head. All the same, I was almost certain he was not pleased by the choices presented to him. 

I happened upon a pinstriped button down that seemed a little more fitting for the homeless aristocrat. I held it up for him, raising my eyebrows, as if to say; “What do you think.” 

“It's fine,” he said unenthusiastically. I handed it to him. Before long, he was buried under a pile of clothes so tall that he was hardly visible beneath them. I pushed the cart over to the fitting rooms and carried him into an empty stall, along with a handful of clothes. 

Once inside the stall, I set him down on the little bench and got to work stripping him of his tattered clothes. Again, he was as calm as a cucumber. His expression was remarkably stoic. You would think he might be the slightest bit excited about getting some new clothes. I found my curiosity peaked again as I pondered this child's bizarre indifference. 

It took almost an hour to try on all of the garments I had picked out for him. A few were too small, others too large. By the time I had changed him back into his rags, his eye patch had fallen off completely and his beautiful blue-gray hair was sticking up every which way. I brushed it down with my fingers and tied his eye patch back in place. He exhaled deeply. In the weak state he's in, he must be exhausted. 

I replaced all of the ill fitting clothes where they belonged and began the journey to the checkout queue. On the way, we strolled past the young girls clothing. I'm sure Ciel thought I hadn't been paying any attention to him and that I hadn't caught the brief, interested glance he gave a particularly frilly dark blue blouse. . . but I had caught it. I relished it, in fact. 

He gasped when I stopped the cart abruptly and turned around. I held up the blouse and examined it. It seemed to be about his size. It was a fine, silken material, with ruffles and lace elegantly accenting the collar and the hem of the sleeves. I couldn't deny that it would look stunning on him.

“Do you like it?” I asked innocently, hoping he wouldn't be too proud to admit to liking it.

“That's a girl's shirt. . .” he said, as if that answered my question.

“I realize that. Do you like it? There's no shame in it if you do.” He didn't appear to be falling for my obvious attempt at easing his insecurities, if the aggravated line of his brow was anything to go by. 

“No. I do not like it,” he said, crossing his arms in defiance again. He looked away from me for a moment but then turned his exposed eye back to glare at me expectantly. As sure as the tundra is unforgivingly frigid, Ciel was lying. Thus, without another word on the matter, I threw the shirt into the cart. He didn't protest. Out of my peripheral, I saw a hint of a smirk forming in the corners of his mouth. In an instant, I realized why he had no desire to buy new clothes. He liked girls clothes. . . How delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I never featured Sebastian helping Ciel relieve himself in the previous chapters. He has done it, I just haven't featured it. Not because I was too lazy to write it, just that it would be horribly mundane and uneventful, which is okay for a novel but not really for a fanfic. 
> 
> Title: Peacocks are known to be vain, elegant, and pompous. They are often associated with nobility. At this point, Sebastian is certain he's dealing with a sophisticate. They are also revered for their beauty. Male peacocks are much more flamboyant in color than their female counterparts.


	5. Raccoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV, yet again.

We drove back to my house in relative silence. The radio had long since been shut off. There was little traffic now, given the fact that it was fairly late. Ciel was pouting in the passengers seat, as street lights danced across his angelic face. I knew he was annoyed. His pride wouldn't allow him to enjoy the small favors I'd given him. They were, in fact, small favors. Feeding him and buying him clothes hardly put a dent in my wallet. I made plenty of money, more than I needed to be satisfied. If anything, it was just balancing work, chores, and caring for him that wore me out. 

As we coasted down my street, I spotted a blur of red sitting on my porch. No, it couldn't be. . .

Grell was waving frantically as we rolled into the driveway. Ciel stared at the intruder curiously. I ignored the obnoxious red head while I ran around to the passengers side to fetch Ciel. Grell traipsed down my front steps holding a teddy bear and a bright yellow balloon. I found it amusing at first, until I realized that I never told the irritating forensic science professor my place of residence. 

“Aww, is this your nephew?” he asks once he's at my side. Ciel's brows furrow as he turns to look at me, presumably waiting for an explanation. 

“Yes, this is Ciel.” I was just hoping Ciel decided to cooperate and keep quiet. Grell kneeled down so that he could get a closer look at the frail boy in my arms. 

“Isn't he just the cutest thing?” Grell screeched. Ciel tightened his grip on my shoulders, in a feeble effort to get away from my noisy colleague. I smiled reassuringly, more or less to ease Ciel's discomfort. 

“Indeed. Grell, how did you find my house? I don't recall telling you where I live,” I asked, a slight displeased tone about my voice, betraying my attempts to be polite. Grell smiled up at me, his pointed teeth making Ciel gasp softly. 

“I read it in your personal file when the secretary was in the restroom,” he said, not even attempting to hide his glee, “Oh, these are for your sister. . . I hope she feels better soon!” He handed me the teddy bear and the offensively bright balloon. 

“Thank you for your concern Grell. Regrettably though, I need to get my nephew ready for bed, he's exhausted, you see,” I lied. The smile I gave him seemed to be enough to convince him that I was being genuine.

“Of course! Do what you have to do! Goodnight Sebastian! Goodnight Ciel!” he shouted as he frolicked away, waving his arms like a madman. Honestly, what a pest. . . I released the balloon as soon as he turned the corner. Once we were back inside, I set Ciel down on the sofa and the bags of clothes on the counter. 

“What was that about?” he asked bitterly. Telling lies does tend to come back to bite you in the ass, I suppose. Oh well.

“That was a colleague from work. I asked my boss for some time off so that I could care for my nephew whilst my sister was ill. He happened to be there,” I explained. Ciel glared at me, the look in his eyes seeming to suggest that he wasn't satisfied with the explanation I had given. “As you might assume, I didn't want to tell my employer that I am caring for a child I found on the street.” He looked down at his hands, apparently accepting my reasoning. 

Suddenly, he made to stand, positioning his hands on the arm of the sofa and attempting to push his weight off of the cushion. He did little more than lift his tush mere millimeters from the sofa before his little arms started to shake violently and he toppled back down with a thud. It was so precious, I could do nothing but giggle at his determination. He grunted in aggravation.

“Please Ciel, don't overexert yourself. You've had enough excitement for one day, don't you think?” I said, sitting down beside him, careful not to make him feel uncomfortable. He didn't respond. My curiosity had been eating away at me since I found this boy. After his bath last night, I found myself simply dying to know what lies behind those enigmatic eyes of his. What kind of misery has he seen? With very little hope, I decided to make another attempt at getting the defensive child to open up.

“I am a physics professor at London Metropolitan University,” I muttered. He turned to me, one fine eyebrow raised in evident confusion. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You asked me this morning what I do for a living. That is my answer,” I responded, my usual smirk stretching happily across my face. He seemed slightly impressed for a moment, before he put his mask back on and turned his eyes back to his hands. He stayed that way for a few minutes, just staring intently at his own hands, donning a deep scowl. Just when I thought he had no further input, he spoke softly.

“Why? Why are you bothering to care for me when you have a life of your own to worry about?” He turned to me, his bright blue eye glistening with wonder in the dim lamplight. I had not been expecting him to feel any sympathy for my situation. Perhaps he didn't, but the question was certainly an interesting one. I had been asking myself the very same thing for days. I answered him the only way I knew how.

“I don't know. I'm not usually the charitable type. I am far from a saint. Honestly, I just felt like I had to.” It was all I could articulate. My mind wouldn't reveal to me exactly why it was I felt so compelled to rescue the stray child two days ago. Perhaps it was intuition, telling me that he'd be a viable source of entertainment. Ciel doesn't have any detectable reaction, he just keeps his eye fixed on his uninteresting hands. “Can you tell me anything about yourself?” I asked hopefully. He sighed deeply.

“Like what?” We had been down this road before. I made the mistake of plunging too deep into his personal affairs. I had to be sure not to make the same mistake twice.

“What's your favorite color?” I asked with a grin. I was almost certain I could bet my life savings that I already knew the answer and it would be a small victory if he actually answered the question at all. Still I found myself growing giddy as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Blue,” he muttered. 

“Why?” I ventured. He snapped his head up to look at me, a perplexed glare about his eyes. 

“What?” he asked roughly. 

“Why? Most people have reasons for being drawn to a particular color. Is there a reason you favor the color blue?” His eyes met mine for just a second. In that one azure eye, I saw a universe of grief, pain, and torture that was far beyond anything a boy his age should know. It wasn't sympathy I felt for the small boy. It was intrigue, curiosity, and, foremost, desire. A hunger. . . a need, in fact, to know him. A profound longing to find the innocent child locked away deep inside the unyielding citadel within the boy's soul. I was brought out of my reverie when Ciel spoke again.

“I just like it, that's all.” He was silent for only a few seconds before he decided to speak again. “You studied psychology at Cambridge, did you not?” The cocksure smirk on his face told me he was quite sure of himself. 

“I studied it in secondary school. Out of boredom mostly. How did you know that?” I asked pleasantly. His smirk only grew.

“I know what you're trying to do,” he informed me, his eyes returning to his hands. My curiosity certainly was peaked.

“Oh really, what is it I'm trying to do, then?” We were both fairly confident we had the other pegged. I was certain he wasn't old enough to understand my motives. It just goes to show that you should never underestimate your opponent. 

“You are trying to lower my guard by asking me meaningless questions that aren't too personal. Then, you follow them up with more poignant questions, in an attempt to get me to reveal my feelings to you,” he said casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. I was floored. How on Earth did he know that? I couldn't afford to lose my finesse, not at this particular moment. 

“Is it so wrong that I would want to know a little more about my freeloading tenant?” I asked him with a bona fide smile. He turned back to me wearing a disgusted grimace. 

“You don't need to know anything about me! As soon as I can walk again, I'm leaving! You'll never have to worry about me again!” His voice was echoing off of my living room walls, hitting my heart with such force, I had to look away from him briefly. “I never asked you to bring me here! You had no right to! I'm most certainly not going to thank you for your generosity, I didn't want it to begin with!” When I turned to face him again, I saw tears welling up in his exposed eye. As lustrous as the brilliant blue orb was in the vague glow of my table lamp, those stubborn tears still refused to fall. I waited apprehensively to see those rivers of frustration and sorrow roll carelessly down his reddened cheeks, but they never came.

He turned his head away from me, clearly lacking the strength to argue any further. I had to take a deep breath and compose myself before I could stand and carry him into my bedroom. I wasn't going to get anywhere with him tonight. He didn't struggle, but he made a point to avoid making eye contact with me again. I dressed him in his new pajamas and tucked him into bed. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked meekly. He didn't answer. “Is there anything you need?” Again, there was no answer. He just stared up at the ceiling as if I weren't even there. 

“Goodnight Ciel,” I said, somewhat coldly as I flipped the lights off. I didn't wait for him to respond, I knew he had no intention to. I closed the door gently behind me. This was all beginning to take it's tole on me now. I still had essays to grade and lectures to plan but my battered mind couldn't take much more abuse tonight. Ciel's declaration had sullied my mood, making me feel a bit more like my usual, apathetic self. When would he be feeling well enough to stand, I wonder? What's more, why should I care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for those who don't live in the UK, London Metropolitan University actually does exist. I don't know a lick about it. I do know William isn't the dean (though that would be kind of awesome). XD Hope you guys are liking S&tP so far. 
> 
> Title: Raccoons are known to be sneaky and clever. They are born scavengers. Most people find them quite adorable, even though they can be pests. In addition, their fur is often medium grey, similar to Ciel's hair.


	6. Hedgehog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we've arrived at the first chapter in Ciel's POV.

_Fire._

_It was raging all around me. My manor, the very place I had called my home for these nine years of my life, was engulfed in furious flames. Not a soul was in sight through the thick black smoke. I twirled around the foyer, in a dizzy haze._

_“Mummy!” I screamed, even though my lungs burned. “Papa!! MUMMY! PAPA!” Louder and louder, but still no answer. “Tanaka!” No one was there. It was as if, for the first time, the manor was completely abandoned. No mother. No father. No wait staff. Nobody. . ._

_There I stood, like a fool, surrounded by angry orange flames and an unbearable heat, which only seemed to grow with each passing second. Without even turning, I knew the flames had inched closer to my back, by the sudden surge of heat that crept up on me, like a trickster on Halloween. I knew I had to run away, but I couldn't move._

_At once, all of the heat surrounding me was drawn from the room and seemed to imbed itself into my back, just under my left shoulder blade. The searing pain only lasted a moment before my whole back went numb. All I could feel was despair and the loss of things most precious to me. Though, I did not know what. When I could no longer bear the sorrow, I almost gave in. I almost let my tears escape my treacherous eyes. Even though, I knew I shouldn't. I had made a promise to myself that I wouldn't cry. Crying is a child's game; something reserved for the innocent and the naïve. I refused to indulge myself in such a foolish farce._

_But before I could allow my weaknesses to spill from my eyes, I realized I was surrounded by hooded figures and was being forced down onto a concrete slab. They were all standing in a circle around me, laughing. . . no, cackling. It was the most abhorrent sound I'd ever heard. One of the figures pulled the steaming branding iron off of my melted flesh carelessly, as if I were just another cow for slaughter. The remainder of them held onto my extremities as tightly as they could. I was sure that their firm grips would leave bruises in their wake, come the morning._

_They forced me off of the concrete slab and shoved my abused body into a tiny metal cage. I wasn't alone. Beside me, both in my cage and other cages surrounding it, were other children. Some younger than me. Some older. But the looks on their faces were all the same. I imagined my face must look something like theirs at the moment. None of them were crying either, though I imagined it wasn't because of their willpower as it was mine. Rather, it was because they had cried so much, their little tear reservoirs had simply dried up. Now, they were all left empty and hopeless. I drew my knees to my chest to try to suppress the tremors rolling through my aching body. The numbness in my back had gone, leaving behind a horrible stinging that would never fully heal._

_Just as the hopelessness came to devour me, the cage door just swung open. The other children in the room didn't even seem to notice. Had the hooded men just forgotten to lock it? From within the cage, the room was a dark, murky dungeon. But the moment I crawled out, I was in a dimly lit sitting room. One that I knew I recognized. . . It was Sebastian's._

_Sure enough, there he was, sitting on his sofa, pleasantly sifting through the newspaper. I walked up to him hesitantly. As I got closer I extended my hand out to him, as if it were an offering. He looked up with that wicked smirk he seemed to wear so often._

_“Yes, you can trust me, Ciel,” he said sinisterly, the duel tones in his voice betraying the sentiment. I pulled my hand away just as he was about to take it. “What's wrong, are you afraid of me?” he continued, his once mahogany eyes, now glowing a malevolent bright red. It was so startling that I began to back away from him, only to trip and fall on my posterior, causing a sharp pain to shoot through my back. Lovely, now I'm horribly frightened and I likely have a bruised coccyx._

_He advanced on me slowly, even as I tried to scurry away. From that angle, his face was covered in shadow, but his eyes still blazed a violent shade of scarlet. My back collided with the wall. Within moments, his face was mere inches from mine. He wore an evil grin that wasn't a thing like his usual smirk. This was much more broad and fanged. He was something less than human. . . or perhaps, more than human. Either way, the bloodlust in his eyes told the whole macabre tale of his diabolic desires._

_“You've nothing to fear, Ciel. I won't harm you,” he said, still flaunting that fiendish smirk. His tongue darted out of his mouth, to dance perversely across his upturned lips. I closed my eyes just as his mouth opened and his jaw came unhinged, almost reminiscent of a snake. It was dark and, suddenly, very quiet. I kept my eyes closed for as long as I could, but eventually, when nothing happened, my curiosity got the better of me and I eased them open._

_Sebastian was gone. In his place, crawling towards me at an agonizingly slow pace, were the charred corpses of my mother and father. They were groaning, as if they were still in severe pain. Tears found their way back to my eyes. I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled, closing my eyes tight and letting out a deafening shriek. It was my voice, yet it sounded completely foreign to me. I didn't really recognize it as it echoed through my cerebrum. It sounded, dare I say, like a child. . ._

I darted awake in a cold sweat. My lungs were struggling to obtain oxygen. A nightmare. That's all it had been. . . Once I could remember where I was, I willed myself to breathe. Though I was asthmatic, this wasn't an attack. It was simply another lousy nightmare, just like the hundreds of other nightmares I've had since _that_ day. 

It was now Friday. I had been living, quite reluctantly, with Sebastian for five days now. Ever since our little disagreement Wednesday night, that man has hardly said two words to me. Though, he has been feeding me well. It's for that very reason that I am slowly getting my strength back. Just yesterday morning, I realized I had regained enough of my strength to sit up on my own. Later that very afternoon, I tried to stand. I failed, of course. In fact, I never even made it off of the bed, but it was an effort. Not to mention I was alone at the time. I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn't allow Sebastian to know anything about my progress. He'd only be a hindrance. So, as far as he knows, I'm still too weak to really do anything at all. 

However, today is a new day. Indeed it is daytime. . . I glanced around the room, noting how much light was seeping in through the cracks in the blinds. What time was it? I turned to Sebastian's bedside table to check the time. There, shining like a silver treasure, was a packet of Pop Tarts and a glass of water, under which, sat a piece of paper with large black letters sprawled across it. I lifted the glass and grabbed the paper, which read; 

_Ciel,_

_Sorry about breakfast. I was up late last night, grading essays. I woke up a bit late and had to hurry to work. I'll be back for lunch._

_-Sebastian_

What a dunce. I _can_ sit up on my own, but he doesn't know that. Did he really expect me to even find this note? Perhaps it's a test. It doesn't matter, I'm hardly hungry at the moment anyway. I'd much rather focus on standing. 

I swiveled my legs to the side of the bed. The hardwood floor was quite cold under my bare feet. I placed my hands firmly on the bed and applied my weight. I found that one good nights sleep had given me a significant boost of energy. Though, it didn't do much for the weak, and somewhat deteriorated, muscles in my legs. 

I managed to lift myself into a standing position. For about thirty seconds anyway, before my scrawny legs started to wobble. I grabbed the side of the bed to keep myself from falling. Then, after a short rest, I tried again. This time, I was able to stand for a whole minute. Getting a bit overconfident, I attempted to walk, which only resulted in me falling down, this time possibly bruising my coccyx for real. 

I scooted over to the bed and, miraculously, was able to hoist myself back up. I had quite a long wait until Sebastian would be coming home. Still, I wanted to do this. So, I tried again. And again. And again. Until, finally, I made it to the bedroom door. It was hardly something to get excited about, but it was still gratifying nonetheless. I took a few deep breaths, then I waddled back to the bed. It was exhausting, to say the least. It would still be a few more days, with regular rehabilitation sessions like this, before I could walk comfortably. It will most likely take even longer before I can walk long distances. How annoying.

In the meantime, I'm stuck with Mr. benevolence and his sugar coated attempts to lift my spirits. However, he hasn't tried to reach out to me in the past couple days. Perhaps he's given up. Wouldn't that be a blessing? 

I snuggled back into the blankets, a contented purr easing through my throat as I'm surrounded by the soft linens. It only takes me a minute or so to lose interest in my comfortable cocoon, though, and I am bored once more. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. It usually made me kind of sleepy but it also kept my mind occupied. A well needed distraction, of sorts. I flipped through the channels, finding the programs mostly just irresponsible and immature. 

“Murder. . .” a news anchorwoman recited as I flipped past the news channel. With that one word peaking my interest, I changed it back and turned the volume up. 

“Local police have begun questioning various members of the 'Oracles', a large group of religious extremists, now known to be one of the most dangerous cults in London's long history. Their involvement with the disappearances of more than fifty missing children has now been revealed, however it is unclear at this point how many more may have been victims of this nefarious group. One member, Martin Kessler, confessed to police Wednesday that it was the 'Oracles' who were responsible for the murders of famous toy manufacturers, Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive. The whereabouts of their son is still unknown.” I could feel my blood boiling within my veins, I half expected to look down and see them turning an angry red within my pale forearms.

“At a press conference yesterday, Sargent Lang revealed that Kessler and a number of others have come forward claiming that the cult has been brainwashing its members, promising them that they will obtain godhood on the impending doomsday. Kessler, as well as several other cult members, are in police custody and are awaiting trial. In related news, the 72 acres of land once owned by the Phantomhive family, which has been on the market since their tragic murders, has been sold to local millionaire, Harvey Johanson, who intends to turn the massive property into a miniature golf course. Johanson says he has the utmost sympathy for the Phantomhive family and plans to erect a memorial in their honor.” I flipped the TV off, feeling quite sick. I didn't want to hear anymore. 

A cult?! That's it?! My parents died because a group of delusional sociopaths couldn't handle being human? My home and everything I cherished was taken from me, all because a bunch of degenerates were stupid enough to believe that human sacrifice would grant them god-like powers?! 

What rubbish. The idea of any kind of omnipotent being, like God, existing is absolute nonsense. If there was a God, and if he was as gracious as they say, I wouldn't have lost my parents. There wouldn't be famine, disease, or natural disasters that mercilessly kill everything in their path, without a care in the world if it's fair or not. 

Just like in my dream, my unreliable eyes began to sting with moisture. For three long years now, I had been asking myself why my parents had to die. Now I had my answer. I always thought that knowing the answer would make the pain stop, that just maybe I would understand one day. Sitting here, in a stranger's bed, all I am able to understand is that the world is needlessly cruel and, these days, human life means little more to people than the dirt under their shoes, unless, of course, it's their own life. 

I rolled over onto my side and closed my eyes, hoping to get a nap before Sebastian came home. The idea of napping right now was rather silly. My mind was far too active. I found my train of thought jumping rails for about forty minutes. In an attempt to divert my overactive brain, I thought of Beethoven's bagatelle No. 25 in A minor, which served to distract me from my emotional turmoil. Within a matter of minutes, I found my body growing limp. Eventually, I drifted into a deep sleep, the beautiful imaginary piano solo in my head adequately fending off my impending nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coccyx, for anyone who isn't familiar but doesn't feel like looking it up, is a small triangular bone located at the very tip of the spinal column. It's often the most easily injured part of your bum. It is also one of my favorite words. Which may be why I used it twice in one chapter. XD 
> 
> Title: Sebastian was not present in this chapter. But the title still represents the animal he's currently associating Ciel with. As he's working, Sebastian is remembering Ciel's standoffish behavior over these last couple days. Hedgehogs have a habit of fleeing from predators rather than confronting them. They are both cute and threatening in appearance.


	7. Hare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sebastian's POV for this chapter.

Sunday morning started much like every other morning this week; I had woken up early, on my sofa. I prepared Ciel and myself a quick breakfast; chicken soup, toast with strawberry jam, and milk. He ate it sleepily but didn't speak a word. He had been silent as the grave ever since our little falling out Wednesday night. It was a fruitless effort to try and coax any kind of reaction out of him. The last time I'd tried, yesterday afternoon, he had scoffed and rolled over to face the wall. As intelligent as he seems to be, he is still such an immature child. 

I left him to eat in peace, not uttering a word as I retreated. It would have been a waste of breath anyway. After I ate my breakfast, I brushed my teeth and got into my civies. Unfortunately, I reserved running errands for my last day off, which happened to be today. I cleaned up my dishes quickly and went back into my bedroom to check on Ciel one last time. 

“Is there anything you need before I go out?” I asked, a hint of annoyance in my voice. He didn't respond. In the four days since our squabble, Ciel has only allowed me to help him to the bathroom five times. It's a wonder he hasn't wet himself. That boy was the most stubborn child I'd ever had the displeasure to know. I sighed, taking his discarded dish and leaving him to his devices. 

Rather than bother with the dirtied bowl, I set it in the sink, perhaps a bit more forcibly than I should have, to clean out later. I rushed out of the house, in a despicable mood. Ciel's irritable attitude was beginning to really bother me. 

With a passive-aggressive kind of road rage, I drove (well over the speed limit) to the bank. It was as crowded as ever, only contributing additional aggravation to my already rotten mood. Inside, I filled out a withdrawal slip and stood in line, listening to old people complain and young children scream, for the better part of two hours. I had little tolerance for the bank on even my best days. My head began to throb, as I assumed it would eventually. 

Finally I made it to the front desk. The teller was a stately looking woman, wearing a pinstriped pantsuit and her golden curls tied back in a loose ponytail. The moment she looked up at me, her cheeks instantly colored a bright pink. 

Hello,” I said politely, even though I was in no mood to waste my time with the gushing woman, “I'd like to make a withdrawal.” I handed her the slip, along with my ID. She fumbled a bit when she attempted to pick the items up. Once she wrapped her fingers around them, she busied herself preparing my request. I tried to avoid eye contact with her. She was quite beautiful, and, on any other day, I might even be interested in asking her out. But I didn't have the patience for women (or children) today. 

She came back to the desk, with a small handful of cash. I put it away, took my receipt and ID, and gave a curt bow in the teller's direction before walking out of the hellish building. 

I felt a momentary rush of relief when a mild summer breeze brushed past me. The potent aroma that it carried with it was a splendid mixture of the saline odor radiating off of the nearby Thames River and the heavenly scent of the lilies planted alongside the front walk of the bank. Somehow, it slowed my blood and eased my temper. At least, a little bit. I just hoped that my trip to the grocery store would be slightly less stressful. 

As I unlocked my car door, I took a nice strong whiff of the air one last time, in an attempt to calm myself further before getting back on the road again. It did little to help, if only because I didn't have nearly enough patience for the abominable Sunday drivers that insisted on driving at roughly the same speed as a garden snail.

By the time I actually pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, my animosity for the human race had returned anew. I parked and got out of my car, feeling that sudden rush of fresh air sweep a false sense of fleeting peace into my broken spirit

The store seemed to be a bit more thronged than usual, clearly full of people who also prefer to procrastinate. I worked my way past the crowd, grabbed a cart and began my journey, starting with the produce. I made a point to grab plenty of fruits and vegetables, which I hadn't had too much of all last week. Ciel needed an ample amount of nutrition in order to recover quickly. . .

Some time ago, I had entertained the idea of purposefully keeping him on an unhealthy diet. I had even considered lacing his drinks with just a drop of formaldehyde every now and again, just to keep him bedridden. I abandoned that idea almost immediately, it would be far too risky. I'd likely end up killing him, given his size. 

That was my train of thought earlier this week. Now, I wasn't sure I even wanted the boy to remain under my care. (If you could even call it that) A part of me wished I had never discovered him. But that itching curiosity to crack his impenetrable defenses had me clinging onto this feeble hope that I can reach him. It was that persistent curiosity that kept me from abandoning Ciel entirely. I wanted to be the one to save him from this masochistic depression he immerses himself in. If only, to know that I can.

When finally, I felt as though I had gathered enough produce, I trudged on. I poked around the deli, trying to ignore my overactive mind long enough to concentrate on what I planned to prepare for dinner this week. Then, I carried on through the frozen food aisle, picking up a few frozen dinners for myself. My job didn't usually allow much time for me to prepare full meals for myself, especially now that I had Ciel to care for. 

The next aisle over was the toiletries. I decided I should pick up a toothbrush for Ciel. Even if he had no intention to stay, he should at least take proper care of his teeth. Who knows how long it had been since he was last able to brush them?

So, I picked out a little blue one, with the vague hope that he'd appreciate it. It was unlikely, but there's no harm in wishful thinking. I grabbed a pale blue loofah sponge for his baths and a 6 pack of toilet paper. It took me about an hour to gather the remainder of my weekly groceries. Once I was satisfied with my selections, I stood in yet another ridiculously long line. Almost twenty minutes later, after a decrepit old woman decided to use a crumpled coupon on every item in her cart, I made it to the register. The cashier was an older woman, who didn't seem as charmed by me as the teller at the bank had been. Thank heaven for small favors. 

She rung up my items and bagged them. After I paid, (a hefty sum, mind you) I hurried out. Navigating through that place was always something of a nightmare. Getting out of the parking lot was almost equally as horrible. But, eventually, I managed to get on the road. I hadn't expected these two little errands to take all day, but I had been out for damn near five hours. 

Fortunately, I had no other tasks I had to see to, outside of getting home to prepare dinner. As I rolled down my street, I saw a familiar mass of red sitting on my front porch. I really do wish he didn't know where I live, it's unsettling. 

Grell jumped up excitedly and ran towards my car as it coasted into the driveway. I popped the trunk open and stepped out, only to be attacked by my obnoxious coworker. 

“Hi Bassy!” he screeched. I can't even count the number of times I asked him not to call me that. “How are you!” I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away gently.

“I'm fine Grell,” I said with a smile. How I manage to smile, even when I'm fuming inside, is beyond me. “What are you doing here?” He smiled back, displaying his startling pointed ivories. 

“I haven't seen you since Friday. I thought you could use some *ahem* grown up company. . .” he said with a wink. I had to suppress a shudder. 

“Well, I thank you for your concern, but I'm actually quite busy at the moment,” I lied. If he kept showing up unannounced, I would eventually run out of excuses. What a pest. . .

“Oh,” he whined, looking slightly dejected. Then, after a very rapid mood swing, he looked up at me with hopeful emerald eyes. “How's your sister feeling?” 

“She's doing much better. And she wanted me to thank you for your generous gifts and for wishing her well,” I lied again. He grinned happily.

“It was nothing! I'm glad she's feeling better!” he shrieked. He followed me (and continued gabbing) as I made three trips back and forth from my car to my house, hauling the groceries into the kitchen and setting them on the counter. Just as I was about to say goodbye and slam the door in his face, he reached his hand out and held the door in place. 

“Wait! Bassy. . . I was thinking,” he muttered. It was more than enough to make me worry. It's dangerous when Grell gets an idea. “You seem to be really stressed these days. It might do you some good to get out of the house. . .” My patience was growing thin.

“If there's a point, Grell, please get to it,” I sighed. 

“Maybe we can go out next weekend? It might help you get your mind off of things.” His tone was sincere. 

“I'm sorry Grell, I must decline. My nephew has very particular needs that I don't entirely trust anyone else to handle. Not to mention, I will likely be busy grading final exams next weekend, as will you, I assume,” I told him, with a false tone of regret. His smile faded into a pout. “I have to check on my nephew. I'll see you tomorrow Grell.” I didn't wait to hear his goodbyes before closing the door and locking it behind me. Honestly, did he have no manners?

I put that rather unpleasant experience behind me and went to tend to the groceries. I figured Ciel to be less of a priority at the moment. After all, the stubborn boy would no doubt be unresponsive anyway. Why bother? 

So, I put the groceries in their proper places and then cleaned the dishes I had neglected earlier. Then, I settled on the sofa for a quick rest. All this running around was tiresome. I laid down and rested my head on the arm of the uncomfortable piece of furniture I had been sleeping on for a week, hoping to get rid of this pesky headache. I closed my eyes, with no intention of falling asleep. Unfortunately, my subconscious had other plans for me. Within a matter of minutes, I had nodded off into a deep slumber.

I wasn't out too long before my empty stomach woke me with an angry growl. The sun was just beginning to set, leading me to assume it was about 8 o'clock. I forced myself to stand and shuffle to the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

I immediately got to work boiling broccoli and cutting the fat off of a few chicken breasts. Once they were clean, I marinaded them in lemon juice, seasoned them with lemon pepper, and put them in the oven. While I waited for them to cook, I sat myself down at the table and fingered through an old issue of _Good Food_. 

I turned off the stove and set the broccoli aside until the chicken was done. Then I prepared a plate for Ciel and myself. I put them both on a tray and carried them down the hall, noticing that my bedroom door was open about three quarters of the way. I wondered, as I got closer, if I had left it open. I was almost positive I had closed it. 

When I entered, Ciel was gone. The sheets were turned back and the room was completely empty. I set the tray down gently on my bedside table, assuring myself that he must still be here. He couldn't have gotten too far. So I checked the bathroom, he wasn't there either. 

“Ciel,” I called out, quietly at first, but when I received no response, I grew a bit uneasy. “Ciel!” I cried louder. Still, there was no response. I searched the house high and low, convinced he couldn't have been ready to leave yet. He couldn't even stand before I left the house today. . . 

I ran out in a desperate flurry once I realized he wasn't in my house. I searched every nook and cranny of my street and all of the surrounding blocks. It was no use. . . He was nowhere to be found. There was no way to know which way he had gone and how far he had gotten. I knew it was a wasted effort, but still, my aching feet carried me to the last place I could think to look. The alley

It was dark, now that the sun had little light to offer me. I approached the bin where I had discovered Ciel. Not surprisingly, he wasn't there. 

With a loud thump, my back collided with the brick wall beside the bin. I'm sure it hurt, but the pain barely registered in my distraught brain. Hopelessly, I slid down the wall until my rear hit the cold concrete beneath me. 

How could this have happened? Where could he have gone? I knew this day was fast approaching but I didn't see any real improvement in his condition up until now. That crafty little brat must have been faking it. . . 

What, I wonder, am I to do now? Get on with my hollow life, I suppose. As if this whole thing had never happened. That would be the logical thing to do. I chuckled quietly to myself. There wasn't even a small chance that would be possible. Not for someone like me. 

I stood weakly and sauntered back to my house, a sick feeling crawling up my throat. The moment I walked through the door, an eerie silence fell upon the house. A different kind of silence than what I was used to. Rather, it was an uncomfortable, lonesome silence that sent chills up the base of my spine. 

I went back into my bedroom, half expecting Ciel to be lying there, a scowl fixed on his tiny face as he stared blankly at the ceiling. But the only abnormality in the room was the, now cold, lemon pepper chicken and broccoli I made the boy for dinner. 

I laid down on my bed for the first time in a week, suddenly lacking an apatite. I rolled over onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow. As to be expected, it smelled like Ciel. So strongly, in fact, that I was able to close my eyes and imagine he was lying there, right beside me. But I was only able to lie to myself for a mere moment, then I remembered the surprisingly painful truth. Ciel was gone. What's more, it is likely he will never return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of the story. In fact, it's far from over, so stay tuned. Kay, side-note time. _Good Food_ is a cooking magazine published by the BBC in the UK. (for those unfamiliar) Sebastian subscribes. XD 
> 
> Title: Hares are usually very independent. They are known for their ability to flee quickly.


	8. Barracuda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Sebastian's POV.

The days seemed to drag on with minute relevance. I spent the whole of Sunday night tossing and turning, longing desperately for sleep to come and claim me. . . It never came. I found some solace in planning my lectures for final exams, which I busied myself with once I realized sleeping was a lost cause. 

Monday, I attempted to carry on as usual. My lectures went somewhat smoothly, even though my mind was elsewhere. My useless students could see no difference in my behavior, which I was thankful for. Once my classes ended, I drove about town, in every conceivable direction, desperately searching for Ciel. I spent just about the whole day scouting greater London for the nearly crippled child, leaving no stone unturned. Still, I could not find him. It was as though he just vanished. 

The longer he was missing, the more paranoid I became. At first, I convinced myself that he had been abducted by burglars and sold on the black market. It would certainly explain how he disappeared so quickly. The more coherent explanation though, is that he had just been lying and left on his own. After all, he was adamant in insisting that he wanted to leave. Then, I got to thinking, what if he was found by whomever it was that had scarred his body. I couldn't even entertain that thought without my mind creating abstract scenarios, all of which involved unspeakably horrible, torturous (and fatal) happenings to little Ciel. 

So, I spent Tuesday afternoon sifting through library books and newspaper articles in various archives over the last ten years, searching for the symbol that I had seen burned into Ciel's flesh. It only proved to be a colossal waste of my time, not that I had anything better to do. Tuesday night was not unlike the two nights before it. It saw me flailing deliriously in a vain attempt to find sleep. But, even though I had washed my sheets five times since Sunday, all I could smell was Ciel's pungent bouquet. Surely it was all in my head, it couldn't still be there. . . 

By Wednesday, I was completely run down. I had barely eaten or slept in days, and things didn't look to be getting any better. No matter what I did, the only thing I could seem to concentrate on was Ciel. My restless pride just couldn't let go of the fact that I failed. I failed to get to him. More importantly, I failed to discover what it is about the boy that intrigues me so much. And now, it absolutely kills me that I will never know. 

I seldom considered how lonely it would be without Ciel around. It was true, he hardly spoke, but it was his presence that put me at ease. (even when it was stressful) His last days at my house had been horribly quiet and bitter. Since then, my anger with him had not lessened. 

It was beyond me why a young child, with no food or shelter, would be so ungrateful to someone kind enough to offer him those very things. In fact, I had spoiled him rotten (well, more rotten, I suppose), yet he could hardly muster up a mere “thank you.” Then, he had the nerve to abandon me, like I were some kind of pet he was no longer amused with. 

Thursday, having gotten only an hour of sleep, (on my sofa again) I was hardly lucid. I kept losing my train of thought throughout my lectures. It was a wonder, but my ignorant students were aware, at this point, that there was something wrong with me. The deep mauve circles under my eyes told the whole dreadful tale of my sleepless nights. 

I kept searching for Ciel, mostly just for something to occupy myself with. I didn't have any hope of finding him, really. I just enjoyed spending all of my expendable income on petrol so that I may drive aimlessly around London. . . 

Friday was the day of final exams. Thankfully, I had prepared the exams at the beginning of the semester. Otherwise, my students wouldn't be taking a final exam at all. Though, it didn't matter either way, since I had no intention to actually grade their exams. I could barely keep my head on straight long enough to form word endings, let alone grade papers. 

So, I passed them. All of them. Of course, there were a handful of students who knew damn well they had failed. But they weren't about to complain or question my sudden generosity. I decided, after nearly passing out in the faculty lounge, that I needed some time off. If I kept this up, I would surely kill myself. 

Now that final exams had come and gone, my fiendish boss had no excuse to deny me my request. I knocked on the great oak door that led to his office. There was a faint acknowledgment from within his chamber. I couldn't understand him but I entered regardless. He was sitting at his desk with the telephone receiver pressed to his right ear. I stepped in and sat down, silently, in a chair across from his desk. He continued conversing, staring at me as though there was a giant spider perched on the tip of my nose. When his call came to an end, he hung up and looked up at me, expectantly. 

“Is there something wrong, Professor?” he muttered worriedly, still giving me a glare of uncertainty 

“Yes, in fact there is, Mr. Spears. You see, I am ridiculously exhausted. I've not slept in days,” I said, fearlessly, “Now that finals are over, I would like to request some time off again. If you refuse, then you can have my notice.” My sudden ultimatum seemed to leave him a bit shocked for a moment. With a slender index finger, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his long nose. 

“Very well. You can have the week off. You appear to be in dire need of some rest,” he grumbled. I stood with a sigh.

“Thank you, Mr. Spears.” I was thankful he had mercy on me, but I could not bring myself to smile. I hadn't smiled since Sunday afternoon. 

I walked out of the university feeling utterly dismal. To add to the dread I felt, the heavens had decided to weep uncontrollably, as they did the day I discovered Ciel. For reasons unknown to me, I found myself shuffling down that alley yet again. When I neared the dumpster, I stopped breathing. I could hardly believe it. . . There he was, lying behind the giant metal box, curled up in the same rags I had found him in. I stopped and stared in disbelief. After all this time, he actually _had_ come back to the alley. 

I kneeled down beside him, a smile forming on my face. I reached out to touch his damp face. As my fingers reached his flesh, they slid right through him. I grasped spastically at him with both hands, only to find that he was gradually disintegrating into a puff of white smoke. 

A hallucination? I slapped myself forcefully, in hopes that I would come to my senses. What is happening to me? It must be lack of sleep. . . The moment I got home, I fell, limply, onto my sofa and immediately fell asleep.

_The lights in my bedroom were dim, more so than usual. It took me a moment to register that the room was in fact, being lit by candlelight. On either of my bedside tables stood two tall, iron candelabra, each holding about eight long red candlesticks. The room was, otherwise, as it usually was; empty. I heard rustling echoing in the bathroom across the hall._

_Suddenly, there was a shadowed figure standing in the doorway. He didn't speak, but he didn't have to. I knew instantly that it was Ciel. Although he was shrouded in shadow, he was still so small. His silhouette was unmistakeable. I couldn't suppress the grin that teased at the corners of my mouth._

_“Walking on your own, I see,” I taunted. He stepped into the candlelight, wearing a coy expression that took me off guard briefly._

_“My, you're quite the genius, aren't you Sebastian? How on earth did you deduce that?” He said snidely. I began to approach him, slowly._

_“It's good to see you still have such a charming personality, despite your brush with death,” I teased again, “Although, you've nearly encountered the reaper once before, haven't you?” I ran my hand along his back, lingering a bit longer on the spot just below his shoulder blade, where I knew he was hiding a curiously shaped scar. His breath hitched when I wrapped my comparatively large hand around the right side of his svelte waist, nearly encompassing it entirely._

_“Why do you care?” he mumbled, trying to squirm out of my grasp. I only held on tighter. I opened my mouth to speak, but only to realize that I hadn't the slightest idea of how to answer his question. Rather than ponder it, I changed the subject._

_“That scar you have is quite interesting. Where, may I ask, did you come by such an intriguing scar, little one?” I could feel my smirk grow, diabolically, with every word I spoke. I was actually quite thankful I was situated behind him and that he couldn't see my face. It would only make him distrust me more._

_“Wouldn't you like to know?” he growled._

_“Yes, in fact, I would,” I said playfully. He remained silent, save for a small annoyed grunt. I couldn't help but chuckle at his displeasure. It was irresistibly adorable. “Ah, as cagey as ever. What will you tell me?” I asked, spinning him around so that he was facing me. A light blush rose to his cheeks when his eyes met mine. He quickly averted his gaze and scowled._

_“Nothing.” I lifted his chin with my right hand and buried my left hand in his soft grey locks. For the first time since I had found him, he had both of his eyes open and uncovered. In his tremendous, hazy right eye, I could see my reflection. The gleam in my own eyes was unrecognizable to me. Ciel seemed to notice it too, as he simply stared up at me in wonder._

_“Are you certain?” I urged, crouching down just enough so that our noses were little more than a centimeter apart. He gulped audibly._

_“Po. . Positive,” he stuttered, gracelessly. I wrapped my hands around him and picked him up. He yelped as I dropped him on my bed. I stretched myself out above him, limiting his movement and keeping him from sitting up. My face hovered over his, as I brushed a comforting hand along his jawline._

_His expression gradually transformed from that of mild terror to moderate apprehension. I could see that he was sort of frightened, which was the last thing I wanted. Even so, I could no longer contain my desires. With just a minimal dip of my head, our lips collided and molded into one sweet concoction of repressed passion. A moan emerged from his chest but got lost in his throat. When I pulled away from him, his eye lids had fallen to cover half of his beautiful mismatched orbs._

_“Come now, you don't need to fear me, Ciel. I promise, I will never do anything to hurt you,” I whispered, soothingly. He reached a tiny little hand up to tuck stray pieces of my ebony hair behind my ear, donning the most angelic smile I had ever seen. It was genuine and innocent, not like those cocky smirks he usually tainted his childlike face with. Just the sight of it was enough to make my devious grin morph into a contented smile._

_“I couldn't possibly fear a pussy cat like you, Sebastian,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around my neck and nuzzling into my hair affectionately. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer._

_“Then why. . .” I began, but found myself interrupted by the splendid warmth of Ciel's unskilled lips, pressed firmly against mine. He forced his deliciously sweet tongue past my lips and rolled it, enticingly, around my own. I wouldn't have expected anything less of him. So persistent._

_His mouth moved, feverishly, against mine for a number of minutes, before his little lungs told him he was in need of air. He pulled away, panting heavily. He remained quiet until he was able to catch his breath._

_“I. . . I'll tell you everything. Just. . . not tonight. . Okay?” he asked breathlessly, gazing up at me with that heavenly smile that enchanted me so._

_“Alright. . .” I assured. I was dying to know the truth about him, but I had achieved what I had set out to do; gain Ciel's trust. The rest could wait until the morning. He beamed and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Then, he pulled me down onto the bed, rolled me over, and crawled on top of me. He wouldn't have gotten very far had I not allowed him to. But, oddly enough, I was comfortable with giving Ciel complete control. He leaned in closer to me, just about to bless me with another divine kiss. . ._

My eyes opened lazily, only to find the living room bathed in the dark orange glow of dusk, which was emanating through my front window. My groggy mind could hardly tell which way was up. I tried to blink away my sleepiness, all the while glancing around the room, expecting to find Ciel lying beside me. Once I finally remembered what kind of torment was waiting for me in my realm of consciousness, I felt physically ill. 

It had all felt so real. I could still taste his lustful kiss. . . I could still hear his sinfully soft voice whispering playfully as I wrapped him in my arms. If only it could have been that easy. My eyes began to sting painfully, my tear ducts burning as I fought to resist a sudden urge to cry, mostly just out of frustration. 

I sat up, heat rising to my cheeks, and rubbed my scarlet eyes free of the threatening tears. Honestly, I need to cease this foolish behavior. It's driving me into insanity. Why can't I control my emotions anymore? 

As panic started eating away at my psyche, I gripped either side of my skull and rocked, like a madman, back and forth. It was an attempt to pull myself together. Though, it did nothing of the sort. Ciel was _still_ gone and I was _still_ ludicrously obsessed. This infatuation that I had with a runaway child was more than absurd. It was aggravating and unnerving. Additionally, it wasn't dissipating with time, as I thought it would. It only seemed to be getting worse. 

I stood, livid, and marched ferociously into my bathroom. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would ease my wrath. As I expected, it did nothing. I still felt an untameable rage boiling in my blood. I wanted to find Ciel. I wanted to force him to open up to me. Without much thought, I curled my fingers into a tight fist and thrust it at my bathroom wall. It flew right through the drywall and hit the corner of a wall stud. 

“Fuck!!” I screamed, a surge of atrocious pain rushing through my hand and up my arm, and yanked my hand out of my wall. I shook it erratically, as though that would help to ease the pain. Damn, I 'm an idiot. . . I am typically not prone to violent impulses like this. But right now, I'm _not_ me. I am some kind of wild creature with no control over its mind or body.

Having released some tension on my unsuspecting wall, I felt collected enough to walk, calmly, to my kitchen and wrap an ice pack to my bruised knuckles. My behavior has now reached a worrisome level. What's become of me?

Just as I began to get lost in my demented mind, my phone rang, loudly, from the coffee table in my living room. I contemplated letting the machine get it. I was in no condition to speak to anyone right now. Who knows what I might say or who I might offend. But, I thought better of it. It could be my boss. Or worse, it could be my mother. I had been doing my best to ignore her calls these days. Her relentless prying is simply annoying. But I couldn't ignore her forever. . . 

“Hello,” I muttered shakily into the receiver. 

“Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Sebastian Michaelis?” a deep voice asked. I didn't recognize it nor did I know anyone who sounded quite that gruff. I assumed it was a telemarketer. 

“Yes, this is he. With whom am I speaking?” The line was quiet for a few brief seconds.

“This is officer McKnight,” he said. A cop? What on earth could a cop want with me. Deranged I may be, but a law abiding citizen nonetheless. 

“Is there a problem officer?” I asked, innocently, my voice still wavering slightly.

“Yes, actually there is. We have an adolescent boy here at St. John's Hospital. About 5 feet 2 inches tall, dark grey hair, one blue eye and one white. He was the victim of a hit and run incident,” he paused. My heart stopped. “When we were finally able to talk to him he gave us your name just before he lost consciousness again. Do you know this boy?” 

I had to answer the man but I couldn't speak. Ciel. . . my Ciel was hurt. He needs me. He even acknowledged that himself by giving the police my name. I was horribly worried about him but I was also quite ecstatic that he wanted to see me. I felt as though I should be angry that Ciel only wants me around when it's convenient for him. Honestly though, I could care less. I was going to see him again. 

“Yes sir, he is my nephew. Is he alright?” I finally spit out, nervously. Lying to the police actually was foolish. But so is telling them the truth, in this case. 

“I believe he's doing just fine now. You can come on down to the hospital and see him. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions when you get here, if that's alright,” he said apologetically. 

“Of course officer. I'm on my way.” I didn't bother to wait for him to respond. I simply threw the receiver down and, in a frantic haste, grabbed my keys and rushed out to my car. In a matter of minutes, I would be be face to face with the boy that tore my heart out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Barracudas are (generally) solitary prey fish. They are known to be particularly ferocious and vile. They are also associated (in pop culture) with people who are notorious heart breakers.


	9. Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

It took me only nine minutes to get to St. John's Hospital. (a trip that would usually take me more like fifteen to twenty minutes) I was thoroughly surprised I wasn't pulled over. All I could think of was seeing Ciel again. In my mind's eye, I imagined him, lying there on a hospital gurney, a bloody mess. It was a painful thought. I began to blame this whole dreadful situation on myself, even though I knew deep down it wasn't _entirely_ my fault. If only I had kept a closer eye on him. If only I had been there to protect him. . .

I parked, rather erratically, and ran into the lobby. Sitting patiently in a chair beside the door was a police officer with his dark hair combed to the side of his head. The moment he saw me rush in, he stood and approached me.

“Sebastian Michaelis?” he asked.

“Yes. How is he?” I said, my voice clearly depicting my worry. He sighed.

“Last I was told, he was in stable condition. That was about a half an hour ago. The doctors are still keeping an eye on him though. Now, you say you're the boy's uncle?” 

“Yes. He and his mother, my sister, live in Swindon. She fell ill some time ago. I agreed to look after him while she recovered.” I really didn't want to lie to a police officer. However, it was a bit safer in this case. Particularly if the man ever learned that this homeless child never really wanted to be in my care. In which case, I would likely go to jail for kidnapping, despite my good intentions.

“What's the boy's name?” He asked, grabbing a notepad from his back pocket and a pen from his chest pocket; waiting eagerly for my answer.

“Ciel Michaelis,” I lied. I never did learn Ciel's actual surname. Even if I had, I certainly couldn't have given it to the man. 

“And, what was he doing so far away from home?” the officer inquired. I had very little time to invent a story, but thankfully, I am an exquisite liar.

“He wasn't adjusting well to London. And, of course, his mother's illness added a great deal of stress for both of us. He and I got into a little argument last night. This morning, when I went to wake him, I couldn't find him. I assumed he ran off, as angry children do. I drove around searching for him most of the day,” I explained, without stuttering a word.

“Were you planning on calling the police?” he asked disapprovingly. 

“I was, once nightfall came. I figured he needed to blow off a little steam. I was sure, once he did, he'd come home. I wasn't too worried about him wandering about in the daylight. After all, my neighborhood and those surrounding it are all very nice, save for the college campus, but I hardly feared that they would bother a child, especially in broad daylight.” Officer McKnight (or so read his badge) nodded; apparently accepting, though judging by his facial expression, he still disapproved of my excuse. 

“Well, it's very fortunate indeed that he wasn't killed. We have a few officers scouting the area for the vehicle. Unfortunately, we've not yet found any witnesses. Hence, we would like to speak to the child when he recovers.” 

“Of course,” I said with a nervous smile. He wrote his number in his notepad, ripped it out carefully, and handed it to me.

“Please give me a call when you get him home.” I took the piece of notepaper from him, a perplexed line forming on my brow. Again, my curiosity was getting the better of me. 

“Certainly. . .” I said, as he turned to leave, “Officer?” He turned back around to face me. “Could you tell me, what exactly happened when he spoke to you earlier?” I really wanted to know why Ciel had given the police my name. Asking the stubborn child when (and if) he wakes up would likely get me nowhere. He had made it abundantly clear that he didn't appreciate my efforts to care for him and he was (obviously) quite eager to escape me. It is curious that he should rely on me now. 

“Well, as I said, he just barely managed to whisper your name,” he explained, “He came to for a few minutes. I asked him for his name, the name of anyone we could contact, where he lived, pretty much anything you can imagine. He didn't answer, he just sort'a groaned. It didn't really even seem like he knew I was there. He was just staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he started losing consciousness again. Just before he closed his eyes, he said your name.” 

“Thank you officer,” I said, fighting back the urge to grin wildly. What on earth would the man think of me if I did that? 

“No problem. I hope your nephew feels better soon,” he said, shaking my hand before retreating through the double doors of the hospital lobby. 

“Thank you, sir.” I said, with a wave, even though he could no longer see me. Once he was gone, I turned on my heel and approached the front desk. 

“Hello,” I said calmly to the receptionist, even though inside, I was a nervous wreck, “I am here to see about the young boy that was brought in a couple hours ago, the hit and run victim. . .” I tried to explain. She nodded.

“Right, the Joe Bloggs. Hold on a moment,” she said, standing and walking over to a file cabinet on the opposite wall. “Here we are,” she said, handing me a pile of paperwork, “just fill these out for us.” 

“Of course,” I said politely, taking the massive pile of papers over to a lobby chair. Great, now I would have to lie some more. I didn't know even the most miniscule details about Ciel, let alone his medical history. If he had an allergy to a particular kind of medication and the doctors administer it to him, it could be a fatal mistake. One that would really be my fault. But, as I actually didn't know anything about Ciel, I lied. Just like I had been doing since I discovered the boy.

Once I finished filling out the paperwork, I took it back up to the front desk and handed it to the receptionist. She took it and gave it a quick glace. 

“Okay, have a seat. The doctor will be out to speak to you soon.” Have a seat? Wait? I've waited enough. It's been over a week since I've seen Ciel. Now he's severely injured. Now he needs me. . . and I'm being told to wait. It was almost enough to make me snap at the stocky receptionist. But I thought better of it. What would that accomplish? Me getting thrown out of a hospital, that's probably all.

So I waited, and waited. . . and waited, for what seemed like hours. But, in fact, only about thirty minutes had passed. Each minute felt like a weight, pulling me further and further into a pessimistic abyss. The longer I had to “wait”, the slimmer Ciel's chances of survival seemed. By the time the doctor emerged into the lobby, I had convinced myself that he was going to tell me that Ciel didn't make it. The silver haired doctor advanced toward me with a smile, which eased my fears a little. 

“Hello there, Mr. Michaelis,” he said merrily, glancing down at a clipboard in his hand.

“Hello Dr. . .” I began, looking down at his name tag, “Simmons. How is my nephew?” The anxiety I felt in the brief moment of silence between my fateful question and his answer was almost unbearable. 

“He's stable at the moment,” he said. I took a deep breath, thankful he was still alive. “He has broken his left fibula, which is going to need to be operated on.” 

“When are you going to operate?” I asked worriedly.

“Depending on his condition, we would like to do it tomorrow, around noon,” he explained, “Additionally, he has broken his left elbow and two phalanges in his left middle and index finger. These are all minor and should mend themselves just fine in due time. Really, he's lucky to be alive. When they brought him in, he had moderate internal bleeding and he was hardly breathing. Does he have a history with asthma?”

I couldn't answer the doctor's question. Not only because I didn't know the answer, but also because, for the first time in years, I was scared. I was afraid that, now that I had Ciel back, I was at the risk of losing him all over again. In his short life, this poor child has faced death more times than the average adult. It wasn't fair.

“Mr. Michaelis?” the doctor asked, giving me an incredulous glare.

“Oh, I'm not sure actually. If he does, I wasn't informed of it,” I said. “So, he's alright now?” 

“Yes, at the moment. He's still in the ICU, more or less just so we can keep a close eye on him. Once we're sure his vitals are steady, we'll move him. He's still unconscious but you are welcome to go see him,” Dr. Simmons said, pointing down the hall, at the door labeled 'Intensive Care Unit.' 

“Thank you,” I muttered quietly, nearly running down the hall once I was out of the doctor's eye line. I walked past several beds before I found him. He was almost exactly as I imagined him; bruised and bloodied. The nurses had undoubtedly cleaned him up quite a bit, but he still had dried blood deep in his nostrils and on his bottom lip, which looked to have been busted. (only visible through the plastic mouthpiece attached to a nebulizer) Other scrapes and cuts on his face were covered in little white bandages. He was hooked to a couple of other machines, neither of which I recognized. 

On his left arm, which was lying innocently over his blanket, near his elbow, was an atrocious dark purple bruise. The way that arm was resting looked unnatural (and quite uncomfortable). Even though the boy looked as though he'd just braved the seven layers of hell, the look on his slumbering face was peaceful, somewhat happy even. 

I put my hand on his chest gently, just to feel it rise and fall steadily. He was still alive. I still had my chance to feed my curiosity. All that I had been lamenting this past week just disappeared, and I felt that pesky optimism creep up on me once more. I sat there, staring longingly at him, until a nurse came in and shooed me away. 

“I'm sorry sir, but visitors to ICU patients are only allowed to stay for fifteen minutes. If you would like to remain in the hospital, you'll have to obtain a visitors pass from security,” she said offhandedly.

“Is that right? I think I'll do that. Thank you,” I said, even though I knew she didn't care to hear my gratitude. She obviously hated her job almost as much as I hated mine. I leaned down and kissed Ciel on the forehead. I had a feeling that if I had done that when he was awake, he would never talk to me again. But thankfully, he was fast asleep. 

“Goodbye for now Ciel,” I whispered. As I did, his eyelids twitched lightly. It clearly wasn't, but I told myself that it was his way of saying goodbye. It made the situation feel a little less tragic. 

I found my way out of the ICU and back to the front desk, where I flashed the receptionist a charming smirk, in response to which she smiled and blushed softly. 

“Excuse me, could you direct me to security?” 

“Oh, yes. It's just at the end of the hall there,” she giggled, pointing down said hall, “you can't miss it.” 

“Thank you kindly,” I remarked pleasantly. I walked down the west hall, looking from one end to the other for a sign reading; 'Security.' Finally, I found it, painted on the wall in bright red letters, just above a desk guarded by a wall of plexiglass. The man on the other side of the plexiglass was looking down at a pile of paperwork, intently sifting through it. 

I got his attention and, after more paperwork and almost another half an hour of waiting, finally obtained a security pass. With it, I went to the critical care lobby, where I had been told to go, and began to doze off in one of the hideous (and uncomfortable) orange chairs provided for visitors, all the while pondering how much this was all going to cost me. Honestly, if it was for Ciel, I didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for this chapter. Note to Americans/Canadians: “Joe Bloggs” is a name commonly used in English speaking European countries as a placeholder name. (ie. for corpses, unknown persons, protecting identities and such) Much like our “John Doe.” At the end there, Sebastian is concerned about how much Ciel's stay will cost him. This is mainly because in the UK, (or so I understand) stays in the ICU are ludicrously expensive. (a fact which is quite important to the story) 
> 
> Title: Butterflies are beautiful and graceful. But, at the same time, they are horribly fragile and breakable.


	10. Dove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, in Sebastian's POV. Also, don't be afraid to drop a comment. I won't bite, they are always appreciated.

The following morning I was roused from my rather comfortless slumber by an overly peppy nurse, just the opposite of the nurse I had encountered last night in the ICU. Very suddenly, it occurred to me that I would not be getting a comfortable nights sleep for quite some time after this.

“Mr. Michaelis?!” the red haired nurse shouted curiously in my ear, with a horribly exaggerated cockney accent, “Mr. Michaelis, we're almost rea'y to prep your nephew for surgery. We just need you to sign some forms for us, we do!” I groaned languidly, rubbing the sleep from my exhausted eyes and drowsily taking the forms from her hand.

“What are these?” I asked, stupidly. I planned on reading them anyway, so asking was really just a waste of time, but I was too tired to care.

“Oh, well they're just informed consent agreements. They basically just outline the procedure and ensure that you understand the details and risks involved. You are the boy's legal guardian at the moment, correct?” She grinned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation behind enormous circular glasses. I really dislike people this perky, particularly at work. Nobody truly enjoys life that much. It's not worth the effort it takes to act so happy, if you ask me. Especially if you happen to clean bedpans for a living. . . I just smiled back at her, politely. 

“Yes, I am.” She giggled. (what on earth was funny in the slightest about that answer, I haven't a clue) 

“Great! Well, then you just look those over and sign in the designat'ed spots and return it to the receptionist!” Ugh, what a wonderful individual to be woken up by. Sleeping on that damn chair had given me a horrid pain in my neck and back. Not to mention, I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. My patience for this woman was thin, at best. 

“How is he?” I asked her, knowing that instigating conversation with her would only be an additional annoyance on my part. But, obviously, none of that mattered. 

“E's conscious. 'Is vit'als are in proper working order and 'e seems to be doing much bet'er. Of course, 'e's still in a great deal of pain. 'Opefully, after the surgery, 'e'll make a quick recovery!” I had to admit, her optimism made me feel a bit more at ease. 

“How long will the surgery take?” I asked, feeling really anxious. I just wanted to see him again. I wanted to hear his voice again. 

“It's a fairly simple procedure. Unless complications arise, it shouldn't take any more than two hours,” she said. Complications? I thought he was doing better?

“What kind of complications?” I asked, inwardly terrified.

“Well, there are always risks of complications during surgery, even the most simple ones. You shouldn't worry though, Dr. Greene is one of the best surgeons in London! He knows what he's doing! He wouldn't operate if he didn't think your nephew was in the proper condition!” Her reassurances did little to lessen my fears. However, worrying wasn't going to help Ciel. This surgery is the only hope he has at making a full recovery. So, I nodded to the nurse and thanked her for her trouble. She bounced off happily. 

I then signed the consent forms and gave them, apprehensively, to the receptionist. I grit my teeth and clenched my fists, hoping to whatever God there is that I hadn't just signed Ciel's life away. Surely I was just being paranoid. . . He would be just fine. After all, it is just a broken fibula. He couldn't die from that, could he? Of course he couldn't.

I was content to sit in that uncomfortable orange lobby chair and answer my own questions like a madman, but my empty stomach had other plans for me. It made an atrocious gurgling sound, that bordered on sounding somewhat demonic. 

I decided to cater to it, with the hope that getting some food in my body would help to assuage the incessant nausea I felt whenever I thought of Ciel. The food in the cafeteria was all very tempting, though I'm sure I would have settled for just about anything at the moment. I decided on something fast; a bagel and some orange juice. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

By the time I had finished, I found that I was a bit full. It wasn't too surprising. My stomach has a habit of shrinking significantly after only a day or so of not eating. It has been that way as long as I can remember. (which was a blessing in college) 

I left the cafeteria, in search of the nearest restroom. When I found one, it wasn't exactly the sterile environment you might expect from a hospital. It wasn't coated in filth, but it was far from clean. How disgusting. . . I absolutely hate public restrooms. Oh well, c'est la vie, I suppose. 

After relieving myself, I tried my best to clean myself up. It was difficult, given what I had to work with, but I managed to make myself look somewhat presentable. I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it a bit. 

Then I returned to the critical care lobby to await the news of Ciel's surgery. My little attempt to distract myself had only taken about twenty minutes. Which meant, at most, I had another hour and forty minutes to wait, assuming there are no complications. Although, it didn't seem all that safe to take the obnoxious nurse's estimate to heart. It would only make me worry that much more if I didn't hear anything within that time frame. I would just begin to make up scenarios, which would progressively get worse as time passed, until it eventually evolved into a morbid illusion that would seem so real it would make me retch.

That is just how I am. It is how I have always been. It isn't normal, I know. But who wants to be normal anyway? I certainly don't. 'Normal' doesn't even exist. It's simply a state of mind that differs from person to person. Even if society fabricates a general idea of 'normalcy', it's just that. . . general. Generalizations are not my style. 

However, being 'normal' would be a reprieve at the moment. All this distress was sure to be the death of me. What had I gotten myself into? To think, had it not been raining _that_ day, none of this would have happened. Had I just left Ciel there, like I had intended to, I would be at home making breakfast and thumbing through my magazines right about now. I never anticipated the possibility of becoming so enamored with the boy. 

The critical care lobby was abound with frenzied emergency personnel wheeling gurneys back and forth. Some of the patients were clearly in worse condition than others. I couldn't help but wonder how many of them would die here tonight. How many tomorrow? Suddenly, I had no further control over my thoughts.

I began to wonder, reluctantly, if Ciel would be among the dead. I had no reason to panic, but I couldn't stop myself. My mind conjured up an image of the downstairs morgue. In it's frigid chamber, lay a steel autopsy table, on top of which rested a dainty corpse covered with a white sheet. Peeking out from the top of that sheet was the beautiful, innocent face of my Ciel, his eyes closed lazily, as though he was simply asleep. His pale skin shimmering, almost translucent, under the bright lamp beaming upon the table. 

All this because he couldn't just stay put. He couldn't swallow his pride and just accept that he was still just a child and that he needed someone to care for him. He deserved this fate. . .

What in the hell was I on about? I didn't mean that. Goodness, it was starting already. I was already concocting terrifyingly vivid images of the worst possible outcome. I really needed to relax. He'll be fine. No need to worry.

I rested my head on the back of the chair and closed my eyes, hoping I could just nod off until the nurse returned. No such luck. Instead, I just laid there, hopelessly, and tried not to think about Ciel. Unfortunately, that too proved to be too much to ask. As I expected, each passing minute brought with it one disturbing image after another.

This lasted for about an hour. Until that bubbly nurse came back in the lobby holding a clipboard. She approached me wearing a big toothy grin. That, paired with the fact that it had only been about an hour and a half since I last saw her, made me feel much more at ease. 

“Mr. Michaelis! You'll be pleased to know that the surgery was a success, it was!” she screeched, making an effort to do it quietly so as not to disturb the other visitors. “In fact, we are so confident about 'is condition, we've moved 'im from the ICU. I believe 'e's still unconscious, but you can go and see 'im if you'd like! 'E's been moved to room 214, on the second floor!” I let go of another sigh of relief, one that I had been holding in since I arrived at the hospital yesterday. Finally, the validation I had been waiting for; Ciel is okay. 

“Thank you,” I practically whispered, my grateful smile reflected back at me through the woman's large round glasses. She blushed madly and turned her head away briefly, I suppose to gush. I assume she thought I was grateful toward her. . . What an awkward misunderstanding? 

“Well, it was Dr. Greene that did the hard work, sir. But you're welcome!” she screamed, still flushed, “Oh! Also, We prefer that children under the age of 16 have a parent or legal guard'ian staying here with 'em. Most parents take shifts. So, if you could, it would be nice if you could stay with 'im as much as possible!” Well, I was technically on vacation. Some vacation it was turning out to be. 

“Of course. I'll be staying in his room then?” I asked, a bit more eagerly than I probably should have.

“Sure! You'll need to obtain special clearance from secur'ity first. After that, you can stay with 'im. There are a few nice comfy chairs in the rooms, so you should be nice and cozy. Also, we would prefer that you use the visitor lavatories, rather than the patient's. But I'm sure you knew that.” Of course I knew that. It would be horribly unsanitary. Though, I'm sure the hospital is more concerned about the patient's weakened immune systems. Either way, it didn't need to be said.

“Yes, I figured that much. Thank you nurse.” I said, with a curt bow.

“Please, call me Maylene!” she shrieked.

“Thank you kindly, Maylene,” I revised. She blushed again and smiled.

“You're welcome, sir! 'Ave a good day then, Mr. Michaelis!” she said, turning on her heel and running off, nearly crashing into another visitor in the process. “I'm so sorry sir! I wasn't watchin' where I was goin' and. . .” I heard her screech as I went to find the stairs. He was only on the second floor, there wasn't much of a reason to take the elevator.

Once I reached the second floor, I began searching for room 214. The room directly to my right was labeled '203', the room beside it was '205'. They were all odd numbers. Which meant, Ciel's room was likely on the left and straight ahead a few yards. Sure enough, about thirty seconds later, I found it. 

It wasn't Ciel that was lying in the bed closest to the door. It was an older woman, who seemed so doped up on medication she didn't even know where she was or that anyone else was in the room with her. I passed the curtain separating her bed from the other patient's. On the other side of it, I saw Ciel, looking so angelic he almost appeared to glow in the vague stripes of sunlight peeking in through the half open blinds on the window to my right. He was no longer hooked up to the nebulizer, which made _me_ breathe a little bit easier as well. 

I pulled up one of those “comfy” chairs and sat down right beside the boy. His chest was rising and falling slowly. I watched it blissfully for a great number of minutes, just savoring his life. Now that I had him back, I never wanted to lose him again. This wasn't a game anymore. I knew, I had to get serious about this if I wanted to keep him. Somehow, this had all extended far beyond just a means for me to amuse myself. Now, it was about holding on to someone I truly cared about. I don't really think I know what it feels like to truly care about someone this way, but I must care. After all, I don't recall ever going through as much emotional anguish as I have this past week. Ciel leaving hurt me far more than I thought it would. 

Staring at him now, his face fixed in an innocent slumber, all the contempt and anger I had been feeling toward him seemed to just flutter away, leaving behind compassion and desire. I felt bombarded with guilt for the hatred I had felt for Ciel while he was gone. He had his reasons for leaving, I understood that. I didn't understand what they were but I respected them nonetheless. 

I sat there, watching him sleep, regretting my past animosity, for about fifteen minutes. He remained completely still the entire time, except for his light breathing. I honestly could've watched him all day if he'd let me. 

Abruptly, his massive eyes snapped open and he let out a small gasp. When I saw that beautiful azure glistening in the sunlight, I felt butterflies start to soar within my chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Doves are often seen as a symbol of love, peace, and gentleness.


	11. Mule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Ciel's POV.

I woke with a start, from yet another terrifying nightmare. Making sense of reality seemed to be something of a pipe dream. It took me a moment just to realize, for the first time in nearly a week, I was lying in a bed. The air around me was horribly artificial. I found it difficult to breathe.

My entire body ached. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to stretch (what I assumed) was just sore muscles. To my surprise, the moment I moved the left side of my body, I was attacked by a sudden excruciating jolt of pain. It ran the length of my left leg and arm and traveled up my back to my neck. It only lasted a brief moment, then all was fine. I grunted in response to the pain, which (comparatively) wasn't nearly as torturous as some of the other experiences I've had in my relatively short life. 

I couldn't remember what had happened to put me in this condition. I do remember that I had been near death and dreadfully weak. That's when Sebastian had found me. I stayed with him until I recovered. . . then I left. But, if I'm not at Sebastian's house. . . then where. . .?

I craned my neck to glance around the room. It hurt a little, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. The first thing I saw, when I looked to my left, was the last person I expected to see. 

“Well good morning,” Sebastian said cheerfully, wearing an elated smile. I turned my head to my right, to discover a couple of IV bags dripping a rainbow of medicine into my veins. Only then did it dawn on me that I was in a hospital. . . What in the world happened? Why was Sebastian here? 

I turned back to him, whimpering in pain as I did so, to find him still flashing me that annoying grin.

“What am I doing here?” I asked feebly. He looked down at me, in adoration, like I was some sort of playful kitten. 

“You don't remember? You were in an accident,” he muttered. An accident? That was an uncharacteristically ambiguous answer. I groaned, the various aches all over my body throbbing each time I moved. 

“What kind of accident?” I asked, annoyed that Sebastian was choosing this moment, of all moments, to be so unobtrusive. 

“You were hit by a car. The result of which, as I'm sure you now realize, was quite a number of broken bones,” he mumbled apologetically, “They just preformed surgery on your leg about a half an hour ago. It's amazing you're awake already.” Hit by a car. . . I would think I would remember being plowed by a car. . . but I don't. Not to mention, how did Sebastian know to find me here? Perhaps he just assumed that I'd end up at the hospital eventually. I wouldn't blame him if he had a low opinion of my ability to take care of myself. I suppose he wouldn't be too far off the mark in that case. 

“How did you know I was here?” I groaned. He started to giggle. . . It is a sad day when a grown man giggles.

“Ah, so you do remember running away, huh? It's nice to know you don't have amnesia on top of all this,” His tone seemed slightly irked but he still wore that smile, “Well, the police called me. Apparently, you said my name at one point in between black outs. You don't remember doing that either, do you?” I just scoffed. But, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I was truly happy to see Sebastian again. It made me feel, dare I say, safe.

Even so, this wasn't good. Now, I'm temporarily handicapped. At this rate, I'll never be able to find those Oracle bastards! Especially now that I'm back in Sebastian's care. I'm running out of time. Now that their cult has been exposed, a great number of them will go into hiding and I'll never find them. They humiliated me and murdered my family. . . and the police are useless. They caught a few of them, sure, but they just scratched the surface. And now, thanks to the damn media, they'll likely never find the rest. 

I was absolutely helpless. There wasn't a damn thing I could do now. I couldn't just stand up and walk off this time. Who knows how long it would take for me to heal completely. By then, it would be too late. . . I lost. Again. 

“Ciel?” I barely heard Sebastian inquire, “Do you have asthma?” I spun my head around far more quickly than I should have, causing a sharp pain to course through my neck. I didn't even acknowledge it. How did he know about my asthma? Wait a minute. . . asthma? That one word was all it took, and suddenly I remembered everything. . .

_It was now the crack of dawn, on a Friday. Almost a whole week after I left Sebastian's house. In that time, I hadn't gotten very far. Still, I didn't worry about Sebastian finding me. He had no way of knowing which way I had gone. Even if he did, I doubted that he cared enough to come and drag me back home with him. Why would he? I went out of my way to be a bloody arse. If he wanted me back, he'd be a damn fool._

_I had been searching for clues, any kind of hint that would lead me to the Oracles. As I thought, it was fruitless. I was becoming desperate. The police gave me the first bit of information I needed. I figured it was all I really needed to know, the rest would come easy. I didn't have the resources that the police had, but I didn't need them. I'm Ciel bloody Phantomhive._

_I made a point to try to avoid the main roads in the daytime, on the off chance that Sebastian was searching for me. The last thing I needed was for him to show up and ruin everything with his misplaced curiosity. However, I figured it was early enough (on a Friday) that I wouldn't have to worry about encountering Sebastian. He would be getting ready for work._

_So, I continued along the sidewalk down the street that I had been following for a few kilometers. I had spent the night peeking in windows, trying to hear any news about the Oracles on any late night tellies. All I had discovered was that Martin Kessler and the few other members that the police had captured were taken to trial yesterday. They had come forward with the names of several other cult members but refused to name their leader. The trial was ongoing and had no conclusion, though one can guess that they will be convicted. Presumably, because of his cooperation with the police, Kessler will avoid a life sentence._

_The temperature had been increasingly chilly these last couple days, particularly early in the morning. My nostrils were beginning to sting due to the frigid air I had been inhaling all night. It was foggy, like it usually is this time of day. Not so much that you couldn't see anything, but still, more than I would have liked. In addition, I was starving. For nearly a week, I had been living off of garbage. I always preferred to search for something that was only slightly spoiled and discarded rather than something that had already been feasted upon. Getting food poisoning was a little more preferable to getting an incurable disease._

_But I hadn't eaten in a couple days. I was cold, hungry, and (to be perfectly honest) lost. I could have been lying in a comfortable, warm bed, getting waited on by a nice, albeit strange, manservant. What a world. I had to admit, I missed the gentle giant and his delicious food._

_My head felt fuzzy and I was running short of air. All this walking was tiring me out, more than I expected it to. Was I really still this weak?_

_I pushed on anyway, ignoring my heaving lungs. I reached a crossroad and began to cross. The road was almost completely abandoned due to the early hour. There was not a car to be seen for miles. The second I reached the center of the crosswalk, I doubled over onto the concrete, struggling to breathe. It happened so suddenly, I was sure it couldn't have been an asthma attack. But after about a minute of gasping for air, it was clear that my asthma, once thought to have disappeared, had returned. . . with a vengeance._

_Out of nowhere, it seemed, a pair of bright headlights came down upon me through the fog. I tried desperately to stand and drag myself out of the vehicles way, but I soon realized that it was coming up too fast. I made it only a few inches before I saw a flash of white._

That was the last thing I remembered. It was a wonder I survived. Just my luck. . . I looked over to find Sebastian staring expectantly at me, seemingly a bit confused. 

“Are you alright?” he asked sympathetically. I most certainly am not alright. All the same, I just nodded, in hopes that he would drop the subject. “Well? Are you going to answer my question?” 

“What question?” I asked obtusely. He laughed at my absentmindedness. What a twit. . .

“Perhaps you hit your head a bit harder than the doctor thought. Hmm?” he teased. I just rolled my eyes in aggravation. “Alright, I'm sorry. But, do you have asthma? The doctor I spoke with last night asked me if you did, I didn't know what to tell him,” he explained. I took a deep breath, not really wanting to tell Sebastian anything about myself. This time, I figured, it wouldn't really make much of a difference. Keeping to myself was my defense mechanism. It made me feel less vulnerable. But it hardly mattered at this point. 

“I do. I mean, I used to, when I was much younger. I thought it had gone away a long time ago, but clearly, I was mistaken. My mother always told me that when I was just a toddler, the attacks were so bad that I was bedridden for days at a time. Apparently, I had the most severe case one can get. Then, at some point, it just stopped. I was a little too young to remember any of it, but I heard stories,” I stated. The look on Sebastian's face seemed to suggest he was surprised, presumably because I had spoken more in this one instant than I had the entire week that I lived with him. I turned to him, deadpan, and gave him a brief glare.

“So, what's going to happen now?” I found myself asking. After coming to terms with the fact that I had failed to accomplish much of anything after running away from Sebastian and that there was little I could do in this condition, I decided that my future rested entirely on him. Honestly, I find it amazing that he came to the hospital at all after how callous I had acted toward him. 

“Well, you will be staying here until they release you. They want me to stay here with you, since you're still so young,” he muttered. 

“What? You're not going to stay, are you?” I asked, obviously a bit outraged. He smiled back at me, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a low chuckle.

“Of course I am.” I scowled in disgust.

“Why?! You have a respectable job! If you stay, you're sure to get fired!” I screamed. He placed his index finger over my mouth and patted my head, shushing me all the while. Why does he insist on treating me like an animal?

“Calm yourself, we aren't alone in here you know,” he whispers, gesturing his head toward the hideous plaid curtain in the middle of the room, “As it happens, I requested some vacation time from my boss and he gave me this whole week off. So, there is no need to worry,” he assured me, still with that smile. 

“That doesn't make this situation any better. You shouldn't waste your vacation time sitting in a damn hospital chair,” I argued, hoping he would give in. 

“It's my pleasure, Ciel. You may not want to admit it, but you are still a child. You need someone to care for you. After all, life is going to be difficult with half of your extremities in casts.” Why did I ever think I missed this idiot? 

“And what if they don't release me before the end of the week?” I asked snidely. 

“They will,” he said confidently, “It won't take longer than a week for your condition to improve.” I sighed. Obviously, he wasn't going to budge on this. 

“Fine. What happens after that?” I had a feeling I already knew what he was going to say.

“What do you think? Do you suppose I would stay here with you if I had no intention of taking you home with me?” He was staring me down, his scarlet eyes gleaming with disbelief. 

“I've already overstayed my welcome,” I mumbled, squeezing at my bedsheets. 

“That is for me to decide,” he said, his smile finally fading. Now, his expression was completely serious. It didn't matter though, it was out of the question.

“I refuse,” I said, turning away from him to stare at the ugly plaid curtain, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

“You refuse?” he asked. I didn't answer. “Why do you refuse?” I sighed again, finally turning back to face him.

“Because, I have no desire to impose myself on your home any longer,” I stated, giving him a glare that (I hoped) would clearly indicate my sincerity.

“Ciel, when are you going to realize that you aren't a bother to me,” he sighed, taking my right hand in his, gently, “I enjoy your company. Quite honestly, you caused me more trouble by running off without notice. So please, for my sake, could you be so kind as to accept my generosity, just this once?” His eyes seemed to be pleading with me, asking me to let go of my reservations. Very abruptly, I felt guilty for putting him through anymore trouble. I didn't really care for him, nor did I sympathize with him, but he did nurse me back to health. In fact, I owed my life to him. (even if I no longer had much of a desire to live) 

“I'm sorry,” I mumbled, so quietly, I was almost sure he hadn't heard me. 

“It's alright,” he said softly, enclosing his enormous hand around mine. It was strange, typically I have panic attacks when people try to touch me. It has always bothered me, even before I was kidnapped and tortured by an insane cult. But I've never been afraid of Sebastian's touch. I suppose that means that, on some level, (contrary to my dreams) I've always trusted him, at least a little. 

“Alright, I'll go home with you,” I said, staring down at my bedsheets. I was almost afraid to look him in the eyes. As breathtaking as those garnet eyes of his could be, they also had the potential to be terrifying. Although I couldn't see it, I could _hear_ him smile once again. The comforting stroke of his hand over mine kept me from imagining his jaw coming unhinged, as it did in my dreams. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. I couldn't help but think about how strange Sebastian was. I was horribly forlorn about my shortcomings, specifically my failure to revenge my parents murders. Still, despite my regretful past and uncertain future, I found myself very glad to have met Sebastian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Mules are known to be stubborn and decisive. Hence the phrase “stubborn as a mule.” Which I think we all could agree, describes Ciel pretty well. XD


	12. Slug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sebastian's POV.

“Hello there, Mr. Michaelis,” Ciel's doctor announced, strolling into room 214 late Tuesday evening, “and how are we doing today, Ciel?” Ciel wasn't looking at the man, not to be rude, of course, but because he had a hard time moving his head. 

“I've been better, honestly,” the boy grumbled. His mood had been abysmal these last few days. I can only assume it mostly had to do with the vast amount of pain he must be in. If there was more to it than that, I wasn't going to pry. The stocky doctor chuckled lightly.

“Well, I certainly hope so. Let's take a look, huh?” he bellowed, lifting back Ciel's bedsheets and peering at his wounds. “Looks like you're a quick healer. You might be ready to be discharged tomorrow.” I could feel my heart start to race, excitement consuming me. Finally, I could take Ciel back home. 

It was true, Ciel looked much better than he did Friday evening. The little cuts and scratches on his face were nearly completely healed over already. He had a few bruises in various places still. His whole left arm and leg were still terribly discolored, though a little less so than they were when I arrived at the hospital. He was indeed healing fast. I hoped it wouldn't be too fast. I had my doubts that he intended to stay with me once he was able to walk again, at least not at this point. It was _my_ intention to change that, as it had been before. Only this time, I had a lot more time. What a wonderful stroke of luck. 

The doctor checked Ciel's heart and blood pressure, in response to which Ciel rolled his left eye, presumably because he hates the hospital, as he has proclaimed several times over the course of his stay. He had apparently lost his eye patch in the accident, as he had been without it since I arrived. Just like he had done when I discovered him, he had been keeping his right eye closed tightly. I would have to find a new eye patch for him soon.

“Well, it looks like everything is in order here. If the swelling goes down by tomorrow morning, we'll set you up with some fiberglass casts,” the doctor announces. 

“And then what?” I asked curiously. Ciel turned his head, whimpering in pain as he did, so that he could see me and the doctor.

“Then he can go home. He'll probably need to keep the casts on for about six weeks. After that, he will most likely have to attend physical therapy for two to three weeks before he'll be able to use either limb comfortably,” he explained. Eight to nine weeks, huh? That is plenty of time to convince him to stay. This time, he won't be able to just get up and leave. 

“Thank you for all your help doctor,” I said gratefully. 

“Of course, Mr. Michaelis. You feel better, Ciel,” he said on his way out. I took my place back beside Ciel's bed. He had a tray in front of him, on top of which sat a cup of lime jello and another cup full of water. He turned his attention to his untouched snack, staring at it as if he didn't even know how to go about eating it. Eventually, he lifted his right hand and tried driving the spoon through the goo. It just ended up getting stuck. The irritated glare he gave the jello was simply too adorable. I couldn't help but gush at his frustration. Inwardly, of course. 

I reached out and took the spoon from his trembling hand. He turned his annoyed glare to me. With all the grace of a gentleman, I brought the spoon, now full of the green substance, to his pouted lips. I held it there, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“If you honestly expect me to let you feed me, you are horribly mistaken,” Ciel grumbled. 

“Come now, don't be so proud. You know you want it,” I coaxed, grinning madly, as I had been doing since Ciel woke up four days ago. He scowled, clearly quite irked. But still, after a moment, he opened his mouth nice and wide to allow access to the spoon. 

Feeding Ciel was much more gratifying than I thought it would have been. I could hardly contain the burst of excitement I felt as he wrapped his little lips around the spoon. All I could do was watch in delight as his throat worked to push the mushy jello down to his tiny tummy, suddenly finding the natural processes of his humanity infinitely intriguing. I was beginning to think like a serial killer. Only, rather than feeling an uncontrollable urge to end his life, I had an irrepressible urge to protect it.

He finished his jello and his water and pushed a button beside his bed, which made the elevated bed sink back down until it was lying flat. I moved the tray and tucked his bedsheets around his little frame. He yawned, moaning indistinctly all the while. 

“Goodnight, Ciel,” I whispered, patting his head. I didn't expect him to reply. However, to my surprise, he did.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled lazily, closing his left eye and letting his head fall limply to the side. 

How is it that this one eyed urchin had come to mean so much to me? What is it about him that is so interesting? Perhaps it is his unnatural confidence. He always acts as though he has the upper hand, even when it's clear he doesn't. Or, maybe it's the fact that he is so intelligent for such a young boy. It could just be that he is so mysterious and stubborn. It's like trying to conquer a fortress.

Most of all, it may be that I can sense how much he has suffered. I don't know what it is that he's had to endure or for what purpose, but I know that he needs someone. We all need someone. I could save this boy's life. If I don't do another good deed my whole life, I can at least do this much.

Besides all that, he's the most captivatingly beautiful creature to have ever walked this Earth, I'm sure of it. Why God would forsake such a radiant soul is beyond my comprehension. To humble him perhaps? I suppose it's true what they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure. And a treasure he most certainly is. The most precious jewel any man could ever possess. 

I sat down in the chair that had been serving as my bed for the last few days, scooting it closer to Ciel's bed once I got situated. I stared at his sweet, angelic face for a number of minutes before closing my eyes and nodding off myself.

The following morning, I jolted awake, knowing that I had a nightmare, but not able to remember what it had been about. I glanced around the room to discover Ciel sitting up (with the help of his bed, of course) 

“Good morning,” he moaned sleepily. I tried my absolute hardest not to smile, but I couldn't keep my glee contained.

“Good morning, Ciel,” I greeted in return, “How long have you been awake?” He tried to stretch but found it to be too painful. 

“About an hour,” he said through a yawn, “the doctor says the swelling has gone down. He'll be back to prepare me for my casts in fifteen minutes.” I noticed a tray in front of Ciel, full of chicken soup and sliced apples. 

“Why didn't they wake me?” I asked, a bit bemused that the staff had let me sleep through all of this. 

“I told them not to,” he stated, with that tempting confidence that I seemed to love so much.

“Why?” I asked with a low chuckle. He picked up an apple slice with his right hand and began munching on it contentedly. 

“I thought you might want to sleep in. You haven't been getting much sleep lately,” he told me once he finished chewing. I was so taken by this one small act of generosity from Ciel that I didn't know what to say.

I settled with a muted; “Thank you.” It didn't properly depict my feelings, but it would have to do. He nodded and continued nibbling on his apples. I took a slice from his hand and held it up to his mouth. He stared at me, much in the same way he did last night when I attempted to feed him. “What? You shouldn't have to feed yourself. That's why I'm here, isn't it? To take care of you,” I teased. He sighed and opened his mouth.

I relished in the moment for as long as I could. Eventually though, his breakfast was gone and I had to go back to staring from my chair. We sat there in silence; me just gazing at him, awkwardly, while he kept his exposed eye fixed out the window. 

An orderly came bursting into the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of him. (A room which now only belonged to Ciel, the old woman having been moved to the ICU a couple days ago) 

“Alright Ciel, are you ready to get fitted for your casts?” the golden haired man asked eagerly. 

“Yes, I suppose,” Ciel responded, a little less enthusiastically. 

“Okay, let's get you into this wheelchair,” he bellowed, staring at me. I took this as a hint that I should assist, even though I could have moved him myself. (the boy must weigh a mere forty kilograms)

We both took hold of Ciel's body, careful to avoid his broken limbs. He groaned when we lifted him off of the bed. I could tell he was in more pain than he was letting on by the way he scrunched his nose and clenched his lips together. They had been keeping him on painkillers for days, but they obviously weren't very strong. Once he was seated in the wheelchair, the orderly turned him around and began wheeling him out.

“We'll have him back in about twenty minutes,” he said as he wheeled Ciel out of sight. I sat back down and waited. It would be so nice to finally go back home (with Ciel). This time, things would be different. I swore that I would do anything to keep Ciel by my side. 

Sure enough, almost exactly twenty minutes later, the orderly returned with Ciel, his whole left arm (and hand), as well as his left calf (and foot) wrapped in thick white casts. 

“Here he is, all ready for release,” the orderly announced. I smiled and gave Ciel a gentle hug, playing the role of worried uncle well. He groaned, playing the role of embarrassed child well. Though, I could wager that, like me, it wasn't an act on his part. 

“You'll have to take him to see a doctor in about a week, just for a checkup. Take him to see a doctor immediately if you notice any swelling,” the orderly explained, handing me a yellow sheet of paper, “these are his prescriptions, this one here is to keep the swelling down and these here are painkillers,” he said, pointing at the appropriate medication to alleviate aforesaid symptoms. 

“Thank you very much,” I said, shaking the man's hand. 

“Otherwise, he's all set to go. You can get him dressed, then go see Addy there,” he explained, pointing down the hall, at a receptionist.

“Certainly, thanks again,” I replied. 

“No problem,” he said with a wave as he sprinted out the door. I turned to Ciel, wearing an elated grin.

“Well, let's get you dressed, shall we?” 

“You don't need to sound so excited about it. . .” he grumbled irritably. 

“Of course. I'm just happy we finally get to go home,” I explained. It occurred to me that I had called it _our_ home. If he noticed, he didn't mention it. 

“What was that hug for anyway?” he asked, trying to wriggle out of his hospital gown. I reached down and gently tugged it off. Though I had seen him nude before, he seemed a bit ashamed this time. Perhaps it was just the setting. No matter, I immediately began to pull his shorts over his cast. 

“It was for appearances sake. I am supposed to be your uncle, after all,” I replied. 

“I'm sure,” he muttered, clearly not buying my explanation. All I could do was laugh. He knew me so well already. 

I finally managed to get his garments on and place him back in his chair. I wheeled him over to the reception desk, where I gave the receptionist my billing information. After which, Ciel and I were permitted to leave. I wheeled him out to my car.

It took a few minutes and quite a number of painful cries before I was able to get him in the passenger's seat. I folded the wheelchair and laid it down in the backseat. I hopped in the driver's seat and buckled myself in. Before starting the car, I glanced over at Ciel, who was staring straight ahead with a furrowed brow, as though he were pondering something very deeply. Oh how delighted I am to finally have him back. From this point on, he is mine, he just doesn't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I think this one is fairly self explanatory. Slugs are slow moving and rather useless, much like Ciel in his current condition. Especially considering that he is fairly incapable of doing much of anything on his own even when he's not horribly wounded. XD


	13. Meerkat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

I drove much more slowly than I had on my way to the hospital, under the speed limit in fact. Now that I had Ciel and I knew that he was safe, there was no reason to be so hasty. Besides that, erratic driving might just hurt him. Not to mention, it could result in an automobile accident, in which case, his hospital stay would have been rather superfluous. 

I half expected to see Grell perched on my front steps when I pulled into my driveway. He has made a habit of showing up unannounced, while I'm away no less. But my porch was pleasantly void of any red. As it should be. 

I retrieved Ciel's wheelchair from the backseat and unfolded it, making sure all of the locks were in place. Ciel didn't make a sound as I picked him up, gently, and placed him in the chair. Clearly he was still in pain, but he was trying his hardest to pay no mind to it. I struggled getting him up to the stoop. But, eventually, with a bit of effort, I managed. 

Once inside, I looked down at Ciel's face. I could tell he was happy to be back, even if he would never admit it. His lips were still down turned and failed to convey any semblance of happiness, but he couldn't hide the glimmer of delight in his exposed eye that let me know what he was truly feeling. If eyes are the window to the soul, Ciel's are likened to that of a stained glass cathedral clerestory.

I wheeled him over to the sofa and helped him onto it. He groaned in pain, apparently unable to suppress it any longer. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled apologetically. 

“It's fine,” he growled. 

Once I thought he was comfortable (at least as much as he could be), I skipped off into my kitchen, elated that I had my Ciel back. I fixed him some hot chocolate, complete with tiny marshmallows. Upon my return, I held the warm cup up to his lips. I didn't want him to hold it, in fear he may spill it all over himself and scald his tender skin. 

He sipped it tentatively. He still wasn't used to being coddled apparently. After a couple minutes, the glimmer in his eye began to fade into a dark, and somewhat distant glower, one that I had seen on his delicate face more than once before.

“What is it?” I asked, feeling confident enough about my relationship with Ciel to take a chance. He let out a disgusted grunt. “Is the hot chocolate really that bad?” I asked sincerely. 

“No, it's not that,” he clarified, a bit angrily, “I can't accept this generosity.” He pushed the cup away from his face with his right hand. 

“Why not?” I ventured.

“Because,” he shouted, “I've done absolutely nothing to deserve it! You have already done so much for me and I've given you nothing in return. I don't understand why you are so set on keeping me alive.” 

“This is true. You have done nothing but complain and ignore me. There isn't too much of a reason for me to like you, is there?” I said, raising my right hand to stroke my chin in contemplation. He didn't answer, but I could see that my assessment of his behavior had stung a little by the way he turned his head away from me. “However, there is _something_ you could do for me that would more than make up for my troubles,” I said with a mischievous smirk. He turned back to face me, a revolted grimace painted on his face. 

“I would rather you throw me back on the streets and leave me to die,” he growled. I chuckled lightly.

“It isn't what you're thinking. Please get your mind out of the gutter Ciel.” His expression morphed, a curious line now forming on his brow.

“What is it then?” he asked innocently.

“I would be more than satisfied if only you would communicate a bit more freely with me. That would be payment enough,” I explained. He looked at me as though I had grown a second head.

“That isn't a fair trade. I would still be getting much more out of it than you,” he said.

“You know, despite how intelligent you are or how grown up you may feel, you are still a child in many ways,” I replied. Ciel gave me a peeved glare. “Most parents spend a lifetime caring for their children and only expect love in return.” His glare deepened. 

“You are not my father,” he barked.

“I know that, and I do not wish to be. However, you do not have to suffer through whatever it is you are going through, alone. There is no shame in asking for help, nor is there any reason to fear placing your trust in someone,” I said, attempting to ease his temper.

“That may be true, but you've no obligation to fill that role.” He certainly can be stubborn. . . but this I already knew.

“No, there isn't. But I would like to, if you'd let me, of course,” I said, trying to maintain confidence but only ending up sounding desperate. He turned his eye to the floor, deep in thought.

“Alright,” he nearly whispered, looking back up at me sadly. “I still don't think it's fair, but I don't stand to lose anything through this arrangement.”

“It's a deal, then?” I asked hopefully. He stared at me, silently judging my behavior for a moment before giving me a curt nod.

“Yes, it's agreed.” He extended his right hand to me, so that we may seal our pact. I enclosed it with both hands and shook it carefully, noting how small his dainty hand was, buried inside my own. 

“Wonderful!” I announced, “Well then, I'm sure you are quite hungry for some real food, yes?” He nodded. Even though there was so much I wanted to know, I still did not want to pry. Just because he promised to be more communicative did not mean he would confide in me his troubled past. It was still a delicate situation and needed to be approached with caution. There would be plenty of time to pick his brain later. Right now, there were more pressing matters. 

I had to resist the urge to skip merrily on my journey to my kitchen. It would be great to prepare food for Ciel again. Cooking was one of my favorite hobbies. Though, this time, I didn't want to keep him waiting too long, so I prepared him a couple waffles (and cut them, of course) and peeled him an orange. 

He devoured it greedily. I watched him eat out of the corner of my eyes as I pretended to tidy up. That is, until my phone started to ring. I thought it may have been officer McKnight to hear Ciel's account. 

“Hello?” I asked the phone receiver.

“Bassy! You're home!” a very familiar (and shrill) voice screamed over the line, “Where have you been?! I've been trying to get in touch with you for days! When you didn't show up for work today, I got worried!” 

“I'm fine Grell. My nephew was involved in a small accident. He was in the hospital, I had to stay with him, that's all,” I explained, as if I owed it to him. I figured Grell would be annoying me sometime today.

“Oh my goodness, that's terrible! Is he alright?!” the obnoxious red head shouted.

“He will be, but he is in desperate need of my full attention, so I must be off,” I said. Grell began to speak again but I threw the receiver down and went back to check on Ciel. It wasn't until after I had hung up on him that I wondered how Grell knew my phone number. Then it occurred to me that he got his hands on my personal file. Who knows what else he may know about me? Ugh. . . what a horrible thought?

I sat down beside Ciel and stroked his head once again. He flinched a little, but allowed it. I watched him intently as he finished the last of his meal, all the while thinking how wonderful it is to finally get through to the stubborn child.

By the end of the week, things had pretty much returned to normal. I would wake up and spend the day bouncing back and forth between my daily chores and taking care of Ciel's needs. He made himself comfortable on my bed once again, while I slept (contently) on my uncomfortable sofa. It was splendid.

Ciel spoke with officer McKnight on Friday evening. He recounted what he could remember of the incident. He couldn't really tell the man what kind of car it was that hit him, nor could he recall the color. Apparently it came head on, quite quickly. He said he had been blinded by the headlights and he was having a hard time breathing at the time. Officer McKnight told us that they were still searching for any viable witnesses. Until they found one though, there was little the police could do. 

Monday morning, I woke Ciel up, quite accidentally, by gently stroking his round cheek. He stirred and softly shooed my hand away with a grumble. I just had to giggle, which made me just a tad bit ashamed. Something about Ciel's adorable irritability made me regress to a young girl. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked him, still giggling lightly. He chose to ignore my childish impulse.

“I'm fine. I have to use the loo,” he muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes clear.

I assisted him to the lavatory and made him a quick breakfast before heading off to work. My vacation had come and gone far too fast and I desperately wanted to stay by Ciel's side. I couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't be there when I got home, even though I knew he would be. 

I had a new set of students now, none of which I've gotten the chance to meet yet. Upon meeting them, I found myself just as cynical as always. I had lost interest in teaching long ago. It's rather bizarre, I had only been a professor for a few years, but I already hated my job. 

Growing up, I never could decide what I wanted to spend my life doing. Nothing ever really appealed to me. When I did decide on a career path, I would tire of it long before I ever even tried to pursue it. It was my mother who pushed me into being a professor. I studied many things at Cambridge, none of them really sparking any kind of desire in me. Now, it is far too late to change my career. I wouldn't be happy doing anything else either, I suppose. 

So I made the decision to dislike all of my new students as well. Every period brought with it the same bout of misery. After my last period, I rushed home, a sick feeling creeping up my esophagus at the thought of finding my house empty.

Of course, it wasn't. Ciel was lying exactly where I had left him; on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was a precious sight, if not a bit depressing. 

“What are you doing just lying here in the dark? Why aren't you watching the telly?” I asked, slightly amused.

“I don't like the telly. It makes me drowsy,” he answered. I was a bit surprised. Ciel had just willingly told me something about himself, and I didn't have to coax it out of him. . . I smiled broadly, no longer able to restrain my merriment.

He really was just a child, wasn't he? It's easy to forget sometimes. It was then that it occurred to me that I still did not know exactly how old Ciel was. Now would be as good a time as any, I suppose. . .

“Ciel, I have known you for about a month now, yet I still don't even know how old you are. Would you mind enlightening me?” I could tell by the look on his face that he was uncomfortable with the question, as harmless as it was. Still, he looked me directly in the eyes and answered.

“Thirteen,” he mumbled. Really? Goodness, I assumed he was much younger. He looks a bit too small to be thirteen. I had lied on the forms given to me by the hospital, obviously, since he had never told me his age. I had to make up a birthday for him. I believe I made him ten.

“What about your birthday? When is it?” I ventured. He sighed deeply, glaring at me through both eyes, even though he could only see me through one. It was a bit bone chilling. 

“December 14th,” he responded timidly. 

“Ah, so you are a Sagittarius then? I figured you for a fire sign,” I said with a wide grin. I decided to leave it at that, I didn't want to push my luck. He was obviously not used to divulging so much about himself to others. “How about a snack to tide you over until dinner?” 

“I'd like that. Do you have anything sweet?” he asked wide eyed. The very fact that he no longer felt the need to hide his right eye from me, paired with the fact that he was comfortable enough to request something specific to eat, told me that he was trying to trust me, at least a little. The thought made my heart pound wildly. 

“Of course. How about some Fingers? Those are quite yummy,” I proposed. 

“Alright,” he replied quietly, with a nod. Within seconds I was fishing around the cupboard for them. I seized the chocolatey treats and was just about to go back into the bedroom to give them to my spoiled house guest when I heard a car door slam right outside my house. I peered out my front window only to see a black taxi cab in my driveway. I could only slightly make out a form on the other side of it, but it wasn't until the cab drove away that I was able to see exactly who it was. My mother. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: clerestories are high internal rising walls that are usually adjacent to the roof of a building, that house large (usually ornate) windows. They are often found in places of worship. The more you know. . . XP The “Fingers” that Sebastian mentions refers to Cadbury Fingers, which, for anyone who hasn't had them, are biscuits covered in chocolate. They are super delicious. 
> 
> Title: Meerkats are social pack animals. The young rely solely on the adults. They have a profound trust for members of their clan.


	14. Fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

As sudden as a flash flood, terror filled me. For reasons I couldn't begin to imagine, I had never thought my mother would just show up without notice. Looking back, I should have figured ignoring her might lead her to take more drastic measures. But that didn't really matter now. What did matter was getting rid of her before she discovered Ciel. There would be hell to pay if she knew about him and the things I had done to keep him with me. . . 

I ran out the door and down my front steps to meet her in the driveway. She was struggling to shove a wayward garment back into her overstuffed trolleycase. For the first time in years, she was wearing her long black hair down. There were a few more silver streaks in it than I remembered. It's amazing how much one's appearance can change over the course of just one year. Her face, however, was still as youthful as ever. Occasionally, I would wonder how it is that the older the woman got, the younger she looked. Perhaps she is a witch, stealing youth from children. . . No no, that's silly. Damn those American children's movies.

“Mother!” I screamed in disbelief as I approached her, “What are you doing in London?” I tried not to make it seem as though I was unhappy to see her, unfortunately my desperation to be rid of her was obvious to anyone, especially to the woman who knew me best. She scoffed, rolling her mahogany eyes in aggravation.

“You haven't changed a bit Birdie! You haven't seen your poor mother in over a year and that's all you have to say? How about 'Oh hello mother, I've missed you' or perhaps 'Mother, what a pleasant surprise, how was your trip?'” Well, she did always know exactly what to say to make me feel guilty. 

“I'm sorry mother, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that, you should have given me notice. I am. . . uhm. . .” I stuttered, glancing back at my house nervously. Suddenly, my ability to effortlessly manufacture lies was failing me. Another side effect my mother had on me. The look on my face told my mother everything she needed to know.

“Oh. My. Lord! You have a woman in there, don't you!?” she screeched. Of course she'd jump to conclusions. I would assume she was ill if she didn't. 

“No. I do not have a woman in my house, mother,” I attempted to explain, throwing my hands up and flashing her an honest smile. I should have known that the woman who bore me would know I was hiding something.

“Come now Birdie! You can tell me! You must have a girlfriend by now!” she said cheerfully.

“I swear to you, there is no woman in my life. . . besides you, of course, mother,” I replied sweetly, knowing that it may shut her up. 

“Then why are you so antsy? I know when there is something amiss in my little boy's world,” she cooed, stroking my hair and pulling me in for a hug. Even though I towered above her, she still maintained a sense of control. She always was the most aggressive member of our family, though father was no picnic either.

I gave her a light pat on the shoulder, then wriggled out of her grasp. She stared at me expectantly, with glistening dark red eyes. 

“I'm not antsy. I simply would have appreciated a call, that's all,” I explained. She huffed, giving me an annoyed glare. 

“I tried calling you. . . several hundred times. You didn't answer!” 

“Did you really? Hmm,” I said, feigning ignorance, “Ah, it must have been while my phone was out.” Her glare only deepened.

“Mmhmm, I'm sure,” she muttered. I decided it best to drop the subject before she forced me to admit that I had been avoiding her. I tried to take her trolleycase from her, only to get my hand swatted away.

“Mother, let me take that inside for you,” I suggested. She scrunched her pointed nose and fixed her lips into a tiny pucker.

“I can take care of my own trolleycase, Birdie. Christ, I'm not that old. The thing has wheels for goodness sake. . .” she mumbled, more to herself than to me, trudging up my front steps with her trolleycase in tow. I followed reluctantly. Once inside, she seemed slightly surprised by the interior of my home. 

“Oh my, it's so tidy in here. You really haven't changed a bit, have you Birdie?” she said, inspecting my bookcase. I groaned (much too quietly for her to hear) at the overuse of my childhood nickname. Heaven forbid Ciel ever hear her call me that. I'd never hear the end of it. 

“Thank you mother. I take very good care to keep things clean,” I said proudly.

“It hardly looks like the home of a bachelor,” she sang, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I could see that she still had not abandoned the notion that I was hiding a relationship from her. “May I see your bedroom?” she asked suddenly.

“Why would you want to see my bedroom, you haven't seen the rest of the house?” I asked, quite irritated. 

“No reason, I just want to see where my dear son sleeps,” she lied. I sighed noisily.

“Mother, I promise you, I don't have a woman in my bedroom,” I assured her. It wasn't a lie. Which I was grateful for, since I always had trouble lying to my mother.

“Is that right? Then let me see it,” she said condescendingly. Damn. . . It took me longer than it should have to come up with a lie. It wasn't even a good lie.

“My bedroom is the only room in the house that I don't go to out of my way to clean. It's quite a mess,” I told her. 

“I knew it!” she screamed triumphantly. 

“What?” I asked, quite confused. 

“Please Birdie, stop lying to your mother,” she insisted, “you would never even drop a dirty sock on your bedroom floor, let alone allow it to become so dirty that you are ashamed to let anyone see it. You have a woman in there and it hurts me that you are going to such great lengths to hide it from me.” I sighed again, this time in defeat.

“Alright mother,” I began, not really sure what I was going to say, “you're right. I do have a woman in my bedroom. But it's not what you think. I'm not seeing her. . .”

“Oh Birdie, I thought we taught you better than that,” my mother chimed in. 

“No mother, it's not like that either. She's a good friend of mine,” I explained. I hadn't had time to come up with a better lie. My discombobulated brain had barely managed to decide that it was better to tell her that Ciel was a woman than to tell her that he was a young, homeless boy. It was a bit more excusable, in view of the circumstances. 

“And could you please stop calling me that, I'm far too old for petnames, mother,” I asked firmly. She giggled, though it sounded more like a maniacal cackle than a playful giggle, but that's mother for you.

“Oh Sebastian, you'll always be my Birdie no matter how old you get. . .” she hummed, grabbing my ears and tugging on them lightly. I took her hands and pushed them back down to her sides gently.

“Mother, please,” I whispered, as though someone other than the two of us was in the room. “What are you doing in London anyway? You never answered me.” She stopped laughing and cocked her head.

“Well, I was worried about you. I haven't been able to get in touch with you for a few months. I thought something terrible might have happened,” she said solemnly. 

“I'm sorry to have worried you mother. I've just been so busy with work,” I said, though I knew that alone was no excuse not to call my mother and let her know I'm okay. But there were a handful of things I had to leave out.

“Well, I am cross, but it's so difficult to stay mad at you Birdie,” she said cheerfully. Difficult my arse. She was always cross with me throughout my childhood and adolescence. “Besides that, your father and I haven't been getting on well these past couple of months. I figured we could use some time apart.” 

“How much time exactly?” I asked nervously. 

“Oh, I don't know. A couple weeks perhaps,” she chirped. I had to resist the urge to gape in horror. I could most likely hide Ciel from her for one night, maybe even two. But I certainly couldn't hide him for two weeks. . . Alright, it was time to start telling the truth.

“Listen mother. . .” I began cautiously, “I already promised my lady friend she could stay here with me. You see, she was involved in an automobile accident and she has quite a number of broken bones. I told her that I would take care of her until she heals. I'm happy to see you, but I truly have no room for you. I do hate to have to turn you away, but I must. I will pay the bus fare for your ride home, if you'd like.” Alright, so it wasn't the whole truth, but it was partially true. She glared up at me, with a glare that I had seen so many times in my youth. It was a glare that never meant anything good.

“I'm not going anywhere. If you are turning anyone away, it will be your lady friend. She didn't give birth to you, did she?” Her voice was so stern, it was impossible to argue with her. I knew it would be a waste of time anyway. I would have to think of another way out of this predicament. 

“Alright,” I sighed, “I just need to talk to her about this, privately. Perhaps you could poke around London for a while. There are various ways one can amuse themselves around here,” I suggested.

“Alright, alright. I am exhausted from my trip but I'll go and wander aimlessly around London so you can have some alone time with your 'lady friend',” she complained. 

“Come now mother, it isn't like that. Besides, you've been sitting down for hours. You need to get out and stretch your legs,” I said pleasantly, urging her out the door with a gentle nudge and handing her some cab fare. She sighed loudly.

“I'm going, I'm going!” she screeched.

“Have fun, mother. I'll see you soon,” I hollered. Once the door was shut, I began to panic. What was I going to do? Perhaps I could take Ciel to Grell's and he could. . .No! What is wrong with me?! I wouldn't trust Grell to take care of a houseplant, let alone my Ciel. I need to take Ciel somewhere though, if he stays here, mother will most definitely discover him. But I have nowhere to take him.

I began to pace subconsciously, wracking my brain for a solution to this problem. The sound of the clock ticking was echoing loudly in my ears. I had to come up with something before my mother returned and who knows exactly how long that would be. 

“Sebastian?!” came a faint cry from my bedroom. Shit, Ciel! I darted down the hall and found him lying in my bed, looking quite bemused.

“Where the hell have you been? I heard a woman's voice,” he said irritably, “Where is my snack?” Of course, all he is concerned about is his food. He eats far more often than a normal child. I shouldn't indulge him so much.

“That's going to have to wait, we have a problem,” I told him, trying not to sound as horrified as I felt. 

“What?” he asked, grabbing a compilation of poems and stories by Poe that I had given him to read while I was at work and thumbing through it, indifferently. 

“My mother is here,” I said as though those four words explained everything. 

“So?” he asked, fixing his eyes on 'The Pit and The Pendulum' and skimming through the first page. 

“She thinks you're a woman. . .” I said apprehensively. I hadn't the slightest idea how to explain to the boy why my mother thinks he is a woman. At first, I thought he hadn't heard me, as he didn't seem to have any response, he just kept reading. 

“That's what happens when you make a career out of lying,” he finally muttered, still scanning the pages of the old book. “What are you going to tell her?” He is wearing a small smirk, clearly finding my predicament quite amusing.

“I have no idea. She won't leave. Not to mention, she is the nosiest person I've ever known, surely I can't hide you from her,” I explained.

“More nosy than Grell?” he asked, flipping a page over with his right hand. An interesting question indeed. But one with a clear answer.

“Yes. Much more.” He didn't take his eyes off of the book but I saw his eyebrows shoot up in surprise briefly. “Can you think of anything?” I asked him desperately.

“Why don't you just tell her the truth?” he asked.

“I can't do that. You don't know her the way I do. Besides, there are a few, shall I say, complicated circumstances involved with the truth. Not to mention, I've already lied to her. She isn't the most forgiving person in the world,” I explained. 

“Well, if you're absolutely set on not telling her the truth, then the only way she would buy this is if I miraculously turned into a woman,” he said sarcastically, licking his finger and flipping another page. 

“Ciel, you're a genius,” I gasped, a sudden epiphany hitting me that I hadn't even considered before. He finally tore his eyes away from the book, glancing up at my beaming face. His own expression seemed to display distrust and panic.

“Sebastian? What are you thinking?” he asked, the anxious tone of his small voice making it very clear that he knew that whatever was on my mind, wouldn't bode well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Foxes, as we all know, are known to be cute and cunning. Though Ciel had no intention to contribute an idea to solve Sebastian's problem, he did. Sebastian is in awe of that.


	15. Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

I got to work digging through Ciel's new clothes, in search of a very specific garment; the frilly blue blouse. What a fortuitous turn of events that he would have spotted it in the store that day. It was also a stroke of luck that I hadn't thrown out Ciel's clothes after he ran away, on the miniscule chance that he may return. 

I found the elegant top and eased it over his little torso. As I thought upon seeing the royal blue shirt for the first time, it looked breathtaking on him. It was a perfect match to his gorgeous cerulean eye. 

“Sebastian?! What are you doing?!” he shouted as I carried on digging through the drawer I had designated specifically for his clothes. I found a pair of dark, baggy shorts, that just might be able to pass for a skirt. It didn't matter anyway, I planned to keep Ciel's lower half covered. 

I gently slid them over his blue boxer shorts, careful not to irritate his broken limb. He winced a bit when I moved his left leg. 

“Sebastian?! Answer me!” he demanded. I stepped back to admire my progress. It was certainly coming along.

“Ciel, you remember how you said our little deal didn't seem fair?” I asked. He glanced around the room with wide eyes, as if he were searching for a hidden prankster. 

“What are you driving at?” he asked skeptically.

“I know a way we can make things even.” He raised his brows, as if to say 'well then, explain.' “Given your delicate, almost feminine features, you could easily pass as a woman. Even the fact that you are so petite wouldn't be suspicious. Most young women are rather fragile. . .”

“No,” he said plainly. 

“Come now, Ciel. You do owe me, remember?” I whispered, grabbing his shoulders gently, “I need you to cooperate with me here. It wouldn't take much effort on your part, I promise,” I begged.

“For how long?” he asked. It hadn't even occurred to me that he'd consider agreeing to this silly plan. 

“A couple weeks, perhaps a bit longer,” I answered passively. 

“No,” he repeated. 

“Please Ciel. I don't have any other choice. If you don't do this I will have to tell her the truth and that could easily ruin a great portion of my life. Besides, you will be in my room most of the time, you'll barely even have to encounter her,” I begged some more, sounding so pathetic I wanted to kick my own arse. His tense shoulders fell suddenly as his walls came down.

“Fine,” he sighed, “But would you care to remind me why it is that you can't just tell her the truth again?” I suppose it's fair to give the poor boy proper warning. . .

“My mother is not. . . well, she's not very typical. She never really has been. Apparently, long before I was born, she tried to kill herself by jumping out of a moving vehicle. Ever since, she hasn't been the same. In fact, some might say she's off her rocker,” I explained.

“Would you say that?” he asked. 

“Of course I would. I've experienced the lion's share of her insanity,” I admitted, “When I was five, I got into her cabbage patch and ate a few leaves off of one of the cabbages. As punishment she made me eat cabbage three times a day for a month. A bit counterproductive I feel, but it certainly did teach me a lesson. Now I despise cabbage.” Ciel began to snicker, attempting to hide it by covering his mouth with his right hand. 

“It isn't really all that funny. For a child, it was devastating,” I practically whined. 

“Oh yes, it must have been a nightmare for you Sebastian,” he teased. I would have to be sure to make him eat cabbage and see how he likes it. “What else did your crazy mother do to you?” he asked, suddenly quite serious.

“Why should I tell you, so you can laugh at my misfortune some more?” I ventured.

“No, you should tell me because she will no doubt unleash her crazy on me now,” he said bitterly.

“Perhaps. Well, let's see. . . When I was thirteen, she caught me *ahem* doing something that teenage boys like to do. . .” I tried to explain.

“Wanking off?” he asked, giggling a little at my failure to communicate. 

“Yes. That,” I said, “Anyway, she caught me and punished me by putting me in one of her nightgowns and making me stand in front of the house with a sign reading 'I am a sexual deviant' for three hours.”

“Really,” Ciel asked with a wide grin, trying his hardest to hold back side splitting laughter. As cute as it was, it was equally annoying. Though, even I have to admit, it was funny now. But it wasn't at all funny at the time. I thought I'd never stop hating her for that. But the older I got, the more I realized, that was her way of caring, as skewed as it was. Everything she did (normal or otherwise) helped me grow as a person and I do appreciate that.

“Yes, really. It was because of her that I attended Cambridge in the first place. By the time my third year of secondary school rolled around, I had no intention of going to a good college. I planned to attend community college with the rest of my friends. But unbeknownst to me, my mother had gathered all of my information and submitted my UCAS forms to Cambridge herself. I was on my schools football team and I had exceptional grades, so I was a shoe in. A year later, the university called me and requested an interview. I didn't want to go, but my mother urged me. That fall, I began my courses at Cambridge.”

“Wonderful. So it's your mother's fault you have a job you hate,” he remarked sarcastically. 

“Not exactly. I'd probably hate any job,” I responded. 

“Not a chef,” he shot back. I absolutely loved this child. He knew me so well.

“Yes, perhaps. However, that never occurred to me at the time. So now I'm stuck with the job I have. That isn't the point of all this though. The point is that my mother is insane and we need to make you into a woman,” I rambled, words flowing from my mouth that I never thought I would say to another human being.

“So, you can't tell your mother you rescued a dying child from the streets because she will be angry with you? I'm not following your logic. Your mother supports children dying of starvation on the streets, then? I would assume most mothers would be proud of their son for such a risky act of humanitarianism,” he said.

“No, that's not it. As I said before there are some complicated circumstances involved with the truth. Things I haven't exactly told you. . .” I knew the glare he was directing at me was one of anger and disbelief. 

“Do tell,” he insisted grumpily. I suppose I didn't have a choice then.

“Well, the money that I have been using to care for you wasn't all my own,” I began.

“What?!” he screamed. 

“Don't get upset. I did have enough to care for you before. But after your accident, I did need some extra money to cover the hospital bill, which I still have yet to pay off,” I explained.

“So where is the money coming from?” he asked sharply.

“You see, my father sends me a check every month to help me pay off my student loans. I had no choice but to use it on you instead. It's my name on your hospital bill after all. If I don't pay it, my credit suffers for it.”

“I'll scold you for this later. So basically, you're saying that if your parents find out about this, they will be so cross with you that daddy will stop handing you money?” How I allowed a child to take control of my life, I haven't a clue.

“And perhaps disown me, yes,” I answered, “So, before we waste anymore time, I will be back in about ten minutes. Will you be alright by yourself?” I asked.

“I'll be fine as long as your crazy mother doesn't come back,” he scoffed. I chuckled heartily, ruffling his hair really quick.

“You should be alright. She is easily distracted and London is an explosion of distracting venues,” I reassured. I ran out the door, grabbed my keys, and jumped in my car. Time was wasting and I was immensely disappointed in myself.

As feminine as Ciel was, he still needed something more. His disguise would have to be seamless in order for my mother to buy into this charade. So I drove as fast as I could (within reason) to a costume shop, just down the street from the campus. The drama students practically lived there. 

It was a magnificent place, full of glittering gowns and bedazzled historical garments. I happened upon a long, slate colored wig. It was almost a perfect match to Ciel's hair. I also grabbed some makeup, a few more feminine articles of clothing (for the future) that I thought he may like, and a silk eye patch. It wasn't very often that you find one of those just lying around, so I took the opportunity to buy one. 

Once I paid for the items and got back to my car, I gunned it. As I drove, I pondered what Ciel's name should be. Ultimately, I decided there was no need to change it. As luck would have it, the name 'Ciel' is a girl's name.

I made it home in no time, hoping to whatever God there was that my mother had not returned home yet. I searched the house, to find that it was still pleasantly void of my mother. I went into the bedroom to put Ciel's costume together. He was pouting on the bed, his little mouth turned into an adorable little moue. 

“Here we are,” I said, taking the long wavy wig out of the bag and placing it atop his head. It was so incredibly endearing, I could hardly contain the squeal of adoration I felt trying to escape. “You look stunning.” He examined it by picking up the loose curls in his right hand and giving them a tiny grunt of disapproval. 

“What is this?” he asked, annoyed.

“It's part of your new persona,” I told him. “I was thinking,” I said as I stared putting a subtle layer of neutral makeup on his already girlish features, “Since you already have a girl's name, I don't see a reason to change it. It will be less confusing that way.” 

“Fine,” he growled. I put the new eye patch over his useless eye. He reached up to touch it, making certain it was what he thought it was. “Thank you,” he said softly. I knew that would make him feel better.

“As for your surname. Perhaps you could use your real one as well. I doubt she would know you,” I suggested. I still didn't even know what Ciel's last name was. But now wasn't the time to ask.

“No,” he insisted. Although I was dying to know what he was hiding from me, I could get it out of him some other time. Right now, there were more important things to sort out.

“What would you like to be called then?” 

“My surname can be Lafayette,” he answered. 

“I suppose that makes sense. However, if you intend to be of French descent, it seems as though you should know how to speak French,” I said.

“Je parle le français couramment,” he said flawlessly. I was certainly impressed. Was there anything this boy couldn't do? 

“Well done,” I purred, perhaps a bit too impressed by the boy's many talents. As if to dampen my mood, I heard my front door open and then slam shut. 

“Sebastian?!” my mother called from my front room. 

“Coming mother!” I yelled loud enough for her to hear me, but not so loud that I might hurt Ciel's ears. I looked down at him in admiration.

“You look beautiful,” I murmured, “are you ready?” He straightened himself up to the best of his impaired ability. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” he groaned. The moment of truth (or rather, untruth) had finally arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: a lion's share is an expression used to refer to the largest portion of a share. In this case the share is his mother's insanity. Ciel's French sentence roughly translates to “I speak French fluently.” 
> 
> Title: This one is a bit more figurative than the rest. It stems from the fact the Sebastian and Ciel are “spinning a web of deception.”


	16. Maggot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV again.

I wasted no time rushing out to greet my mother. She never did like to be kept waiting, and I never did like arguing with her. She was hunched over the sofa when I entered the living room, her long, wild black tresses now tied back in a bright red scrunchy. 

“Mother! You're back! How did you like London?” I asked, knowing that her answer wouldn't be anything pleasant, considering how exhausted she appeared to be. 

“My feet are killing me! Go make your mother some tea, Birdie,” she groaned, shooing me away with her left hand, her perfectly manicured fingernails glistening under the dull glow of my lamp.

“Of course mother. Chamomile or Earl Grey?” I asked sweetly. I was happy to accommodate her, she must be quite tired. 

“Surprise me,” she sighed, plopping on my sofa and resting her feet on my coffee table. She never really did have much of a mind for manners. It was my father who was poised, a trait he passed on to me. 

“Very well.” With that, I went to the kitchen to prepare my mother's tea. Through the bar connecting my living room and kitchen, I saw my mother sit up and scrounge through her bag, eventually pulling out a hairbrush and dragging it through her tangled locks. 

“So, what did you and your lady friend decide?” I heard her yell after a couple minutes. Although it was my house, I still had problems with yelling. It wasn't very dignified. Then again, so is ignoring your mother, something I desperately wished I could do.

“Well, given her condition, I can't turn her away, I'm sure you understand. However, if you're willing to sleep on the sofa, you are more than welcome to stay as well,” I answered, moving a bit closer to the bar so that I didn't have to shout. 

“Why must your poor elderly mother sleep on the sofa?” she complained. Honestly. . .

“Mother, please. You are not even close to being 'elderly'. Besides, Ciel has been injured quite badly, she needs the bed far more than you do,” I told her. She snickered.

“Alright, alright.” I handed her a small cup of Earl Grey tea, which she began sipping immediately, even though it was still far too hot to drink. She didn't even blink as the steaming liquid hit her lips. “So, when do I get to meet this girl?” 

“You can meet her now if you'd like. You should give your tea a moment to cool anyway,” I suggested, taking the cup from her and placing it on the table. I was quite nervous about her meeting Ciel. What if she didn't buy it? Still, it would be better to just get it over with, I certainly couldn't hide him from her for two weeks. 

“Certainly. I'd love to,” she said. The gleam in her eyes told me that she already had a low opinion of Ciel, which couldn't bode too well for him. Not that I was worried, I knew that Ciel wouldn't put any stock into anything my mother says, he's smarter than that, but it would inconvenience the poor boy. Perhaps he deserves it though, at least a little.

So I led my mother down the hall, stopping her midway through our journey and taking her hands gently in my own. 

“Mother, please listen to me. I may not be romantically involved with Ciel, but she is still a very good friend of mine. I would appreciate it if you didn't scare her away,” I whispered so that Ciel couldn't hear from my bedroom. She scoffed softly.

“Birdie, when have I ever scared away any of your female friends?” 

“Every relationship I have ever been in,” I said bluntly. I wasn't telling her this for Ciel's sake. Rather, I simply wanted to test her. It was true that she had single handedly ended every relationship I've ever had. Granted, it didn't really bother me too much, since not one of those relationships were even slightly serious. Still, it was the principal of the matter. 

“Name one!” she shouted. I hushed her with an index finger to my lips.

“The last relationship I was in could be used as a prime example,” I whispered aggressively. 

“You mean that nice girl? What was her name, Gina?” she asked innocently.

“You didn't seem to think she was that nice at the time,” I grumbled. 

“What makes you say that?” Again with the feigned innocence, who did she think she was fooling?

“You told her I have had numerous battles with alcoholism and a severe case of attention deficit disorder,” I muttered incredulously, “She broke up with me three days after meeting you.” 

“I never said any of that Birdie. You've never had a problem with alcohol,” she whispered, patting my shoulder. 

“I know that mother. Never mind. Just, please, be polite,” I pleaded. 

“I promise, I'll be nice.” I could almost see little devil horns sprouting up through her jet black hair. Despite her sweet smile, I had my doubts that she was being honest. Even if she intended to be nice, I didn't really believe that she had it in her to be civil to another woman in my life. It is the price I have to pay for having an unstable mother. I came to terms with the fact that my future spouse would have to be able to ignore my mother's insanity quite a long time ago. 

I led her to the end of the hall, to my bedroom door. I hesitated to open it for a moment, not knowing what to expect. I had to ask myself what the hell I was doing for a moment. I doubted my ability to lie (at least to my mother) and Ciel's ability to act and suddenly I was internally panicking. But it was far too late to turn back now. So I swung the door open with gusto. 

Ciel glanced up at his intruders and smiled with all the grace of a lady. It was beautiful. The look on my mother's face seemed to suggest that even she was struck by Ciel's beauty. This was only momentary, however, before her expression morphed into one of extreme jealousy. 

“Mother, this is Ciel Lafayette. Ciel, this is my mother, Emmalina,” I said, standing between the two of them, in the event that my mother felt the desire to attack Ciel. My faith in her ability to behave has long since died. 

“My, my! Sebastian, why in the world don't you want to date this one? She is absolutely stunning,” she screeched, her tone clearly condescending. So it begins. . .

“*ahem* Mother,” I muttered under my breath, in a fruitless attempt to get her to quiet herself. 

“It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Michaelis,” Ciel said politely in a higher voice than I was used to, though he was clearly slightly annoyed. My mother smiled broadly at him. 

“Indeed. Pardon me for asking, but why are you two _just friends?”_ she says, as though inserting a polite word here and there would excuse the intrusive question. Before I could answer her, Ciel spoke up.

“If you would like to be involved in your son's love life, then it is fair to tell you that he and I are simply trying to take things slow,” he explained. My mother's eyes widened in surprise. My own scarlet eyes mirrored hers perfectly. What is he doing?

“I see,” my mother said through her teeth, turning to glare at me. I tried to hide my look of shock. She turned back to glare at Ciel. “That must be why you're living with him and sleeping in his bed.” She really knew how to get under people's skin. Still, Ciel just laughed.

“It isn't like that, ma'am. We have both spent our lives jumping into relationships that never seem to work out. We would like to get to know each other better before we make any consequential decisions,” the crippled boy said effortlessly. Wow, he was good. Even I believed that he was a grown woman. He was small, but he carried himself with the confidence of an adult far beyond his years. Sometimes I was so in awe of him that I could hardly breathe over the incessant fluttering of butterflies in my stomach.

“In fact, if I'm being completely honest, I feel in my heart that he might be the one,” he added with a gentle smile. It took all my willpower to contain my shock. The look in his eye, the honesty in his smile was so incredibly convincing that I couldn't stop myself from believing him. My mother was doing very little to hide her apparent surprise. She turned to read my expression, which I maintained well, smiling back at Ciel with a genuinely happy grin. Since my mother was no longer looking at him, Ciel turned a sadistic smirk my way. I could almost hear his surprisingly deep voice saying (perhaps with slightly too much satisfaction); “you deserved that.” 

“I'm sorry,” he said finally, actually managing to blush, “I didn't mean to make things awkward. I'm just so touched that Sebastian would be so tender and caring in my time of need, without expecting anything in return.” His words, I knew, held some truth. He truly was grateful to me for taking him in. However, I did expect something in return. This little act of his was so believable that I could actually trick myself into believing I had obtained it.

“You don't have to apologize, Ciel,” I said softly, taking the boy's right hand and kissing it gently, “I am honored that you would feel that way.” Ciel may have been acting, but I wasn't. I never expected Ciel to do something like this. Although, now that he has, I can relay my feelings to him, all the while pretending they are just part of this little act of ours. If this could continue, I'd gladly let my mother stay. 

Before I could continue to purge myself of my feelings for the thirteen year old (that couldn't have sounded creepier), my mother cleared her throat from behind us. I released Ciel's hand and turned to her.

“Well, this was nice, but your tea is getting cold. We should leave Ciel in peace. You can bond with her some other time,” I said, trying to put an end to this potential catastrophe. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Ciel,” my mother said as I led her out of the room.

“Likewise, ma'am,” Ciel added.

Once we made it to the living room, she sat down on the sofa and began sipping her tea once again. She was scowling, much like she usually did whenever she had a foul opinion of someone. 

“Really? You think she's your soul mate?” she asked abruptly, “She's far too moody. If you marry her, you'll have a very unhappy life. I just can't bear to see my Birdie suffer like that.” 

“We haven't even gone on a date yet, nothing is definite. There is no need to discuss marriage and soul mates just yet. Besides, you don't know Ciel like I do,” I said confidently. Much more confidently than I should have, considering I was lying through my teeth. I knew next to nothing about Ciel. I was still surprised that Ciel convinced my mother that there was something between us. I figured it was his way of getting back at me for making him do this in the first place. A bit of a misfire on his part, I feel. 

“I don't need to know her better, darling,” my mother said with another scoff, “You've met one woman, you've met them all.” I sighed. This woman is impossible.

“Would you rather I date a man?” I asked her, seriously. 

“Of course not!” she screeched. 

“So, you would rather I live out the rest of my days alone?” I continued.

“N. . . no,” she stuttered. 

“If all women are the same and men are out of the question, then who is it you expect me to date?” Her expression changed from one of certainty to one of extreme ambivalence. “I'll never find someone if you don't give me the chance to get to know them. Ciel is very sweet. Not to mention interesting, beautiful, intelligent, and incredibly resourceful. I've never met anyone like her before. Please don't sabotage this one mother, I'm begging you,” I explained. Her mahogany eyes softened slightly. I wasn't afraid of her ruining things between Ciel and I, our relationship couldn't possibly be any more complicated than it already was. It was yet another test I was secretly administering to her. I just wanted to see if she was capable of keeping her nose out of my business. 

“Alright Birdie, I'll behave,” she said reluctantly. It was unlikely that she would keep her promise. At least she bought our little act. For that, I was thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: This one is a little change of pace. It is Emma's first impression of Ciel. Maggots, as I'm sure you guessed, are disgusting, foul, and repulsive. (to most) They are often a symbol of decay and corruption.


	17. Leech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciel's POV.

I got very little sleep that night. Between the immense physical pain I was in, my failure to find the bastards responsible for my parent's murders, and this ridiculous act I had gotten myself mixed up in, my mind was a bit heavy. By dawn, I was wide awake. I had spent most of the night pondering the odd set of circumstances that led me here. 

Mostly, I was fixed on the Oracles. From the little bits and pieces I was able to watch on the telly when Sebastian was at work, the police were no closer to locating the ring leader of their little cult. It was his (or her) head I wanted most of all. Though the others were equally responsible, it is their leader that took advantage of their already very unstable minds. If not for his ignorant leadership, it is unlikely that my parents would be dead. 

Then there was the matter of Emmalina. She was obviously playing the role of mama bear, protecting her cub. She was sure to be quite the nuisance. On top of all of this, I had agreed to dress as a woman. A grown woman, no less. The things I do for equilibrium. 

On that note, I had also agreed to open up to Sebastian. Something I honestly wasn't sure I was capable of. I had already stepped out of my comfort zone by telling him my birthday. A day that, though he didn't know it yet, was the source of all my anxieties. A day that, surely, he would remember and want to celebrate. The thought of celebrating my birthday terrified me. 

Just as my thoughts began to spiral into memories of raging flames and charred corpses, Sebastian eased into the room. His presence was enough to calm my rapidly beating heart. 

“Well, well. Good morning darling,” he teased the moment he noticed I was awake. I just groaned, hoping he'd get the hint that he was annoying me. “Are you hungry, my sweet?” His smile was both mocking and genuine, something I surmised only Sebastian could do. 

“Stop that,” I said flatly, “No, I'm not hungry.” His smirk didn't fade, as I thought it might.

“Really? That's surprising,” he began, as he stood and started preparing my clothes for the day, “You usually have such a healthy apatite,” he giggled, poking me in the stomach upon his return to the bed. 

“Shove it, Sebastian,” I growled, pushing his hand away. He laughed lightly and apologized, stroking my head, as he always did. I was hardly in the mood to be touched, especially by him, considering the circumstances. But I allowed it, if only out of gratitude. He began to strip me of my nightshirt. I struggle and flailed, to the best of my ability.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled. I knew what he was doing, however, I didn't wish for him to do it. I just wanted to relax today. 

“If you are going to successfully portray a lady, you must be acutely aware of your appearance, broken bones or not,” he hummed happily. 

“I am aware of that,” I grunted, as he finished forcing a yellow sundress over my cast and down my torso. I felt like such a bleeding fruit. . . He put that horribly itchy wig on my head and gave it another pat. 

“Is this really necessary right now?” I asked irritably. 

“Most likely. I can assure you that my mother will come in here to speak to you while I'm at work. She's quite predictable that way,” he chirped. Why did I ever agree to do this? Gratitude or not, I don't think it was worth it. Then again, who knows, maybe toying with Emmalina's head will improve my mood. 

It was clear by the disgusted expression on my face that I quite disliked the ensemble that he had dolled me up in. 

“Come now, it isn't so bad. You like ladies clothes anyway, don't you?” he teased again. Was I really so miserable all the time that he couldn't tell I was in a bad mood now?

“If you think it's so fun, why don't you dress up like this?!” I snapped, annoyed that he would be so insensitive to my situation. 

“Alright, I'm sorry. Quiet yourself,” he whispered, holding up his hands in defeat, “I shouldn't joke about this. I truly do appreciate that you would be so accommodating.” That's more like it.

“Where is your beast of a mother anyway?” I asked, feeling as though I was justified to be so harsh. He did seem a bit offended at first, but his expression softened once he actually thought about it. Apparently, even her own son would identify her as an anomaly. 

“Last I checked, she was still asleep,” he answered, styling my wig into a half ponytail, “Though, I'm not so sure she is anymore.” Once he finished my hair, he stepped back to admire his work. The self satisfied smirk he wore told me he was pleased with the result.

“Is there anything you need before I go?” he asked once he snapped back to reality. 

“No, I can take care of myself,” I said. It wasn't my way of being proud, it was simply the truth. For the past week, while Sebastian was at work, I had been making efforts to be more self sufficient. It was beginning to pay off. Certain things, I still needed help with, but for the most part, I was able to maneuver fairly easily without assistance. I didn't want to rely on Sebastian for everything. It made me feel useless, which I knew I most certainly was not. 

“Alright,” Sebastian whispered before turning to leave. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to me, wearing a rather perplexed expression. 

“Ciel. . .,” he began apprehensively, “Why did you lie to my mother yesterday?” Ah, there it was. I actually hadn't expected him to ask. I thought for sure he knew why. 

“Why not?” I answered with a shrug, “You don't seem to have a problem lying to her.” 

“Actually, I have a serious problem lying to my mother. That is, I've never been too good at it,” he responded with a light chuckle. “Really though, why did you tell her we were potential lovers?” he asked, the amusement that danced across his face only moments ago, now gone completely. 

“To get back at you for humiliating me this way,” I answered, a cocky smirk making its way to my lips, “It would be quite amusing to see how you would explain things to your dear mummy when 'Ciel' leaves you.” Sebastian's eyes fell to the floor in despairing contemplation. I felt my own eye follow suit. Almost immediately after I had said it, I felt rather out of sorts. The thought of leaving Sebastian now, seemed slightly horrifying. What was I to do? I certainly couldn't hunt down the Oracles, they are likely so far into hiding that the US military couldn't find them. What did I have left?

“When does 'Ciel' plan to leave?” Sebastian asks sadly after a few minutes, making quotation marks with his fingers to symbolize that he was referring to my female persona.

“She doesn't know,” I said, rather curious as to why I was referring to myself as “she.” I was honestly a bit too confused to care. I couldn't rely on Sebastian forever. I would eventually have to leave. Now that I really think about it, I am afraid.

“She couldn't possibly be foolish enough to run off before she heals, could she? She may get hurt again,” he whispered, with a tiny sympathetic grin.

“No,” I said solemnly, “She's not that foolish.”

“Good,” Sebastian muttered, stroking my cheek between his thumb and index finger. “Oh my, I'm running late for work! I have to go. Good luck Ciel,” he cried before rushing out the door. 

I could hear him and his mother chattering out in the living room. It still struck me as odd that someone such as Sebastian could have been raised by that madwoman. My mother was the exact opposite of Emmalina; composed, gentle, with a firm hand but still all the elegance of a modern noble woman. All this and she was still so young. My father too. Only, he could never discipline me. 

Whenever my mother would insist I needed a spanking for misbehaving, she would be the one to do it. My father would always rise to my defense. He felt that I was too fragile to be punished in such a manner, due to my small size and chronic asthma. He was far too overprotective of my mother and I because of our asthma. Mother knew her own limits, which is why she never felt guilty about disciplining me. 

She was the most gentle woman when she wasn't cross with you, that's what I loved most about her. She had the capacity to be incredibly sweet and kind but was still grounded enough to realize that she couldn't let herself be taken advantage of; which is what typically happens to those too kind or weak to stand up for themselves. The world is bitter, and she knew that all too well. As did my father. But he was anything but weak. His family was the most important thing to him. Outside of our home he was polite and gracious, but never weak. Everyone knew not to cross him. He had a dark side that I was always enchanted by, even though I had never actually seen it myself. 

I was roused from my memories by a loud knock at Sebastian's bedroom door, followed promptly by Emmalina's boisterous voice, hooting;

“Hellooo! Are you awake in there?!” If I wasn't before, I certainly am now. I had to take a moment to compose myself. 

“Yes, come in,” I said, loud enough for her to hear but not so loud that I would wake the neighbors, a thoughtful decision that she hadn't the sanity to consider. I was prepared for war.

She swung the door open, only to reveal a madly fake grin gleaming back at me, reminding me slightly of a horrifying cheshire cat. 

“Ohh, looks like you are all ready to face the day,” she cooed merrily. 

“Yes, I am,” I chuckled, trying my hardest to be pleasant, despite my terrible mood. 

“How is that you managed to dress yourself?” she asked, looking me up and down, curiously.

“Oh, your son was kind enough to help me dre. . .” I began, only to be cut short by a deafening shriek.

“What!? You two aren't even dating and he is helping you dress, that is so improper!” Oh yes, if ever there was anyone to dictate what is proper, it is Emmalina Michaelis. She is the ambassador of propriety. . . Ugh. “From now on, I'll assist you. We're both women, after all,” she said.

“That isn't necessary. He's already seen me. Besides that, I am more familiar with him, no offense to you ma'am,” I recited, like the lady I was pretending to be.

“Nonsense, it is improper for a lady to expose herself to a man that she is not intimate with. Honestly, it's always been my belief that a woman shouldn't expose herself to a man unless they are married. You young women today are so liberal,” she says, shamelessly. I secretly took offense to this statement, even though I knew it didn't even apply to me, since I wasn't a woman. Still, I fancied myself something of a capitalist.

“Really, Mrs. Michaelis, I wouldn't be comfortable with that,” I told her, my right hand waving wildly in the air.

“Perhaps that's because you're a harlot,” she muttered under her breath. I heard her perfectly, but I was shocked that she would be so bold as to say that to a person she has only just met. Did this woman have any restraint at all? 

“Excuse me?” I asked, as though I hadn't fully heard her. I wanted to keep myself calm, for Sebastian's sake. Pretending I hadn't heard her was the only way I could keep myself from verbally tearing her to pieces. 

“Oh nothing,” she giggled, much like her son when he was amused by someone else's misfortune. Apparently the apple truly doesn't fall too far from the tree. “So, Sebastian tells me you're from Swindon.” 

“Yes, I am,” I answered sweetly. This was so much more painful than being hit by a car. 

“Why did you come to London?” she asked innocently. I had to improvise, which wasn't a problem. The problem was that I wasn't sure how much Sebastian had told her. I would have to keep things vague, so as not to contradict anything she may have heard from him. 

“For school. I was a senior at London Metro when Sebastian first started teaching there,” I answered. It wasn't quite as vague as I was hoping for, but it had to be kind of believable. 

“So you're younger than Sebastian?” she asked. A redundant question, I thought. 

“By a few years, yes.” She seemed a bit disturbed by this new information. 

“Do you plan on going back to Swindon someday?” she asked, interlacing her fingers and bringing them to her chin. 

“Probably not. The only family I have there is my aunt. I wouldn't want to be a bother to her,” I answered nervously, hoping that Sebastian hadn't gone into any detail about my home life. 

“But you have no problem leeching off of my son,” she hissed bitterly. Why must I be civil with this woman?

“No ma'am. I have many problems with it. Sebastian insisted, I couldn't turn down his gracious offer. Besides, I saw it as an opportunity to get to know him a little better,” I explained, as though I owed it to her. “I fully intend to pay him back for his generosity.” That much wasn't a lie. Sebastian saved my life, not once but twice. Even if I didn't have much of a desire to live anymore, I still recognized that he had sacrificed a great deal to keep me alive. I had every intention of paying him back for everything, when I was more capable, of course.

Emmalina scoffed from her perch on Sebastian's chair, which was followed by a hearty laugh.

“Oh yes, I'm sure you have plenty to offer him,” she cackled sarcastically. I found myself being more than just offended by that statement, though I wasn't sure exactly why.

“Madame, you're being quite rude. I'm sorry if I have done anything to make you think less of me. I assure you, I have only the utmost regard for you and your son,” I told her. It absolutely disgusted me that I was treating this vile woman with respect. I can't imagine living with this witch for a great portion of my life. I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for my savior. 

“My Sebastian may not realize it yet, but I see right through you. I've met your kind before, dear,” Emmalina growled. This conversation had taken a turn for the worse and there didn't seem to be much I could do to turn it around. Still, I resolved to stay serene. 

“My kind, ma'am?” I asked calmly.

“Don't play dumb. You don't fool me for one second. You're as fake as a department store Christmas tree,” she said, standing up quite abruptly, fire blazing in her scarlet eyes, which were much more angular and wild than her son's. Strands of frayed ebony hair fell haphazardly around them, making her appear all the more disturbing. 

I couldn't really believe that I was now caught in a quarrel with Sebastian's mother. A quarrel I did nothing to instigate. I could guess that her relationship with her husband must be in shambles, leaving her son as her only companion. Why else would she be so obsessed with keeping him away from other women? 

Before I could form a coherent response to her accusation, she got dangerously close to my face and stared me directly in the eye. It was only then, with her a mere two inches from me, that I noticed how bloodshot her eyes were. She looked somewhat like a monster. But I have never been one to fear monsters.

“Just know this, siren” she whispered, a crazed vibrato about her voice, “Sebastian is not stupid. He will figure you out eventually. When he does, you will have to find another man to sing to.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving me fuming and a bit confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Well, this one is somewhat obvious. Again, it is Emmalina's impression of Ciel. Leeches are parasitic. “Leech” is also a common term to describe someone who takes advantage of another person's generosity.


	18. Raven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciel's POV once again.

The week forged on. I heard not even a peep from Emmalina while Sebastian was at work. When he was home, nothing seemed amiss. She was as polite and unobtrusive as ever. Sebastian seemed a bit impressed. I, however, knew that she was fuming on the inside. At times, I loved it. What could be more fun than depressing a crazy woman? I wondered why Sebastian didn't hate her. After all of the horrible things I had heard about her, I despise her. But, perhaps I would think differently if she were my own mother. On other occasions, I hated being in her crosshairs. Even if she had been ignoring me for the most part, I knew there was a storm brewing.

Friday afternoon, Sebastian arrived home from work, feeling optimistic for once. He entered his bedroom immediately upon his return, grinning from ear to ear. The moment he noticed me sulking on the bed, his eagerness seemed to fade. 

“What's wrong?” he asked sadly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm tired of this charade. It's really embarrassing. I know I owe you, but I'm not sure I can keep this up much longer,” I admitted. It actually hurt to say it, but it was true. My noble blood wouldn't allow me to accept the humiliation that came with dressing this way. I would admit that my sense of fashion would be considered effeminate by many, but I am still a boy. Pretending to be a woman was not only humiliating, it was insulting.

“It's alright Ciel, you don't need to suffer much longer. She will be gone by next Friday,” he whispered, surprisingly keeping his hands to himself. 

“Do you promise?” I asked skeptically.

“I promise,” he said with a crooked smile. “Now, what do you say to a trip across town? Some fresh air might do you some good,” he proposed. 

“That sounds nice,” I replied with a sigh. I was just itching to get away from Emmalina. I realized then, that I would have to go outside in drag. Ultimately, I decided that it was worth the degradation. “Where to?” I asked.

“I was thinking Finsbury Circus, it's fairly close by and there is plenty of fresh air to be had there,” Sebastian chirped. 

“Alright,” I answered, feeling a great sense of relief that I would get to spend the day at the park with Sebastian. . . Only Sebastian. His mother was such a thorn in my side. 

Sebastian began to lift me off of the bed, to help me into my wheelchair. I struggled madly. I think I may have even hit him, though I didn't mean to. He set me down gently on the bed.

“What?” he asked, slightly annoyed, presumably with my belligerence.

“I can do it myself,” I told him firmly. He just crossed his arms and watched me as I attempted to maneuver into my wheelchair. It was fairly easy to do at this point, so it didn't take much effort. Even though Sebastian had seen me do this sort of thing several times before, he still wore a look of surprise. 

“Goodness, you're getting rather good at that,” he commented. Something about the way his brows furrowed when he thought I wasn't looking, told me that there was something more going on in his head. 

He wheeled me out into the living room, where Emmalina sat, sifting through the newspaper. He helped me into my coat and slipped a shoe on my right foot. Emmalina crumpled the paper up and set it on the coffee table, then stood up and sprinted over to Sebastian and I.

“Where are you off to?” she shrieked. Sebastian sighed softly.

“We were going to visit Finsbury Circus,” he told her politely. 

“You're going to a circus? Oh, I just love the circus!” she shouted, “You must let me tag along!” As a woman who has never really been to London, it would make sense that she was unfamiliar with the area. Still, it was amusing to watch her hopes go up so much, only to be crushed when Sebastian explained to her what Finsbury Circus actually was.

“No, mother, Finsbury Circus is a park here in London,” he told her. Her ecstatic smile faded and was replaced by a pout. 

“No circus then?” she muttered.

“I'm afraid not,” Sebastian said apologetically. Her dejected expression was one that Sebastian couldn't tolerate for too long.

“You're still welcome to come with us,” he said. My heart began racing with rage. Why would he do that? I suppose all is well between his mother and I as far as he knows. That doesn't change the fact that I am not a woman. The more time Emmalina spends around me, the more likely she is to realize that. It also means that I have to keep up this act when I am supposed to be relaxing. Really, Sebastian, you are the biggest boob I've ever known. 

“Wonderful! I'll get my bag!” Emmalina exclaimed, bouncing off to retrieve her bag of torture. In it, she kept about a million different tools for self defense. Some of them couldn't even be considered useful for self defense. . . like rope. What would she possibly need rope for? I think her attacker would be sufficiently incapacitated after she sprayed him in the eye with pepper spray, beat him bloody with her nunchucks, and shot him up with tranquilizers. She would certainly be in trouble if the police ever got a hold of that thing. The only reason I know what she keeps inside it is because she is constantly rummaging through the damn thing and pulling everything out of it to get at something at the bottom. Sometimes I got the feeling she was showing me her tools to send me a message. If indeed that was the case, the only message I received from it is that she is daft. 

Upon her return, Sebastian wheeled me to the car, where I promptly began to climb in myself. Sebastian tried to help, only to get his hand swatted away. I was in no mood for him to touch me, not after he ruined my afternoon. 

Like most car rides, ours was awkwardly quiet. It was a true shock that Emmalina was keeping her mouth shut for once. I was even able to convince myself she wasn't there for a moment.

But as all good things do, that moment ended once we arrived at Finsbury Circus. She climbed out of the car, stretching loudly. Sebastian fetched my wheelchair and unfolded it, while I stumbled out of the passenger's seat and hobbled into it. 

“Let's go see the bandstand,” Sebastian suggested delightfully, “There are always nice jazz bands playing around this time of the year.” 

“Why are we at a park anyway? Couldn't we go somewhere a little more exciting?” Emmalina groaned. 

“No, we can't. Ciel can't handle anything too strenuous right now. I just wanted to get her out of the house,” Sebastian said. She started muttering something under her breath, but I chose to tune her out. Instead, I was focusing on the colors. All of the greens and blues that I hadn't really seen since my accident. Even then, the colors were never this vibrant. Although Finsbury Circus is surrounded by the pollution and bustle of the city, it was somehow still so clean and quiet. There was a sense of serenity about the air that I hadn't felt in quite a long time. 

We approached the bandstand, on which stood (as Sebastian had predicted) a troop of jazz musicians, playing a soothing melody. I could almost see the notes flying from their instruments and soaring through the air. It was heavenly.

“This is dreadfully boring,” Emmalina grumbled, thus bringing to an end my moment of zen. 

“Mother, if you'd rather, I could give you cab fare and you could explore London some more,” Sebastian told her. She folded her arms in defiance. 

“No, it's fine,” she huffed. I was still trying to ignore her and listen to the blissfully sweet music emanating from the bandstand. Sebastian also turned his attention back to the band. We were both rather immersed in the melody for several minutes before Emmalina sighed loudly.

“Alright, I'm leaving,” she said, holding her hand out to receive the cab fare Sebastian promised. He handed it to her and she kissed him goodbye before trotting off to hail a cab. Once again, silence fell upon us, save for the brilliant music. It felt wonderful to finally be rid of the beast. Although, I felt there was a fairly good chance that she would return and I had no desire to see her face again until we got home. Then, a thought struck me. I was sure it was a horrible idea, but I needed to do it. 

“Sebastian, can we go somewhere else?” I asked weakly. Sebastian seemed surprised by my sudden request, but he indulged me anyway.

“Alright, if that's what you want. Where would you like to go?” he asked, leaning down so that he was eye level with me. I hesitated, pondering whether or not this was worth the embarrassment I'd likely suffer. Considering I was in a wheelchair and dressed as a woman, I ultimately decided it couldn't possibly get any more humiliating. Could I really trust Sebastian with this though? 

“A miniature golf course,” I said confidently. His expression was one of confusion and doubt. “In Knightsbridge,” I concluded. 

“Knightsbridge? Why in the world do you want to go to a miniature golf course in Knightsbridge?” he asked with a cock of his brow.

“I have personal business there,” I said. The new owner of the property knew of the Phantomhives. He likely knew what I looked like. But I doubted that he'd recognize me like this. In fact, I was sure of it. Sebastian started wheeling me back to the car.

“Very well.” I could tell by his voice that he was excited. I knew that he was dying to know more about me. And I had promised to open up to him. This would be the perfect time to do that, I suppose. 

So we drove the 20 minutes to Knightsbridge in complete silence. I was rather impressed that Sebastian knew better than to pry, even with so many questions hanging in the air. I did feel rather guilty about keeping him in the dark for so long. He did deserve too know the truth. 

Once we arrived in Knightsbridge, I had to direct him to the precise location of the property. This area, I knew well. We turned onto a gravel path, through a sparsely wooded stretch of land. Once we reached the end of the path, we were met with the sight of torn grass, loose dirt, and several dozen heavy digging trucks. Sebastian stopped the car and turned a bewildered glance in my direction. 

“Ciel. . .” he began, turning back to look at the construction site, “It looks as though this golf course has not yet been constructed. . . What business could you have here?” My mind was a bit too heavy to explain things just yet. It would likely be easier to just let him see why I wanted to come here for himself. 

“In due time, Sebastian,” I mumbled. He sighed, presumably beginning to grow weary of my secrecy. All the same, he got out of the car and prepared my wheelchair. I hobbled into it and he proceeded to wheel me toward the newly constructed building near the front gate, even though I hadn't told him to. Inside, we encountered a torrent of filthy construction workers and contractors. All of them quite lax in their duties, as none of them bothered to question our presence. I pointed to a hall, where I assumed we may find the main office. Sebastian followed my finger and wheeled me to the end of the hall. Sure enough, as I had suspected, there was the new landowner scribbling something on paper at his desk. 

“Excuse me,” I said, loud enough to catch his attention. He turned around briskly, a strand of his immaculate golden hair falling askew and lazing about in front of his dull green eyes. 

“Oh. . . Can I help you?” he asked, obviously a bit peeved by our presence. 

“I'm sorry to bother you sir. My name is Penelope Bodin. I was a good friend of the Phantomhive family. I realize you are very busy but I would be most thankful if you would allow me to pay my respects,” I told him solemnly. He rolled his eyes in agitation.

“Alright. Just stay away from the construction zones. You know where the cemetery is then?” he groaned.

“Yes, I do. Thank you so much, sir.” With that, Sebastian reluctantly wheeled me out of the office. The moment we were outside, he stopped.

“Who were the Phantomhives?” he asked soberly. 

“My family.” I couldn't see his face, since he was still standing behind me. Still, I knew that he was surprised. It wasn't like me to be so open. The truth was out now. He knew my family name, something I had been desperately trying to keep from him. Now, he could learn almost everything about me that he so wanted to know. All it would take would be the slightest bit of research on his part. 

“What happened to them?” he asked. It was so unlike him to be so frank. I opened my mouth to speak, only to find that the words had gotten lost on my tongue. So, I said nothing. Sebastian, being the gentleman that he is, didn't try to force it out of me. Although, why would he need to? A quick search on the internet and he would know the truth, or at least some truths. 

“Where to then?” he sighed. 

“About one kilometer this way,” I muttered, pointing southeast, where the Phantomhive family cemetery was erected centuries ago. Sebastian diligently wheeled me down the dirt path until we came upon weather worn wrought iron gates, in the center of which was a large ornate golden “P”, encircled by twisting silver and brass vines. 

The gates croaked wickedly when I pushed them open, to reveal an unkempt cemetery, full of evenly spaced granite and marble headstones and statues, each one that dated back to the last few decades donning a haunting photo or carving of the deceased. I nudged Sebastian's hands away and wheeled myself along the paved walkway to the spot I knew all too well. . . 

The headstones of my mother, father, and myself. 

Mine, like my father's, had been erected upon my birth. Back then, it had only been engraved with my name and year of birth. That didn't make it any less thought provoking as a child. Whenever I would be forced to come here by my parents to pay respects to my grandparents, I would make a point to stop and stare at my own headstone. It was terrifying, but still somehow a comfort to me. Perhaps it was due to the fact that my final resting place would be beside the ones I held most dear to me. 

That was then. However, when I approached the triad of marble stones this time, I was quite thunderstruck by what I found. Sebastian gasped once, he too, finally laid sight upon the thing that struck me so. On my headstone, was written; “Ciel Phantomhive- Let thy child rest in hope and rise in glory- 1998-2007” Under which, was a black and white photo of me at nine years old, the expression about my eyes was somber and chilling. It's strange, I don't recall getting that photo taken. 

I was under the impression that the police were still searching for me, but apparently they had given up a long time ago. It was only in this moment that I realized that, to the rest of the world, Ciel Phantomhive was dead. 

I considered, for a moment, turning myself in and revealing myself to be alive. That notion was quickly discarded. I would honestly rather die in the streets than be forced to live in an orphanage. I glanced up at Sebastian, to discover him staring at my headstone, a look of sheer horror about his ghostly white face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: As Sebastian said, Finsbury Circus is not an actual circus. It is actually a public park in London. From what I understand, it is undergoing construction at the moment. But that's the fun thing about writing fiction, reality need not apply. XD
> 
> Title: Ravens are often times considered an ominous sign. Most often they are associated with death.


	19. Swan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV.

My head was in a frenzy. Just the sight of Ciel's name carved on the marble headstone was enough to send my cerebrum spiraling into concocted images of death and pain. Yet, there he stood, right before my eyes. Perhaps he was a phantom. Or, perhaps all of this has been nothing more than one long imaginative nightmare. No. . . no. Really, am I so unstable that a rock could have such a negative effect on my psyche? 

I looked down at the boy that had been keeping his death a secret from me. He was gazing up into my eyes curiously. I found myself feeling overwhelmingly confused and nauseous. But the slightest quirk of his lips was enough to pull me back to reality. The fact was, that he was here, with me. Not six feet below my feet, as the deceitful stone would have me believe. 

I kept myself as composed as I could, for Ciel's sake. He seemed to buy it, turning to face his parent's headstones once again. 

“I'm surprised that you would be willing to bring me here,” I told him hesitantly, still trying to remain collected. He sighed softly, a noticeable shiver rolling off of his shoulders. It was beginning to get quite chilly out.

“I've been meaning to come back here ever since. . . for a long time,” he sputtered, keeping his eyes fixed on his mother and father's graves. 

“Why didn't you? You had the chance,” I ventured.

“I didn't want to do it by myself.” I was floored by his humanity. In all the time that I had known him, he remained an impenetrable wall of indifference. Here, in this God-awful cemetery, he was a completely different Ciel than the one I knew. It was beautiful. 

“I'm honored to be the one to accompany you, Ciel,” I told him, sincerely. He turned back to me to grace me with an appreciative smile before turning back to his departed parents. He bowed his head and cleared his throat quietly. 

“I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get here. I haven't been a very good son in that respect. But I'm here now,” he practically whispered to the headstones. My heart broke into pieces with every word he spoke; his evident agony serving as a clear reminder that he had been through more than I could likely imagine.

“It's silly, I know. Speaking to the dead,” he muttered, a soft chuckle escaping his throat.

“It's not silly at all,” I said genuinely, “Who's to say they can't hear you?” He turned his head back to me briefly, then back to them. His exposed eye shut tightly as he began to laugh. Perhaps, to anyone else, he would have appeared a lunatic. But to me, it was the most precious and honest form of innocence that I had ever seen. The moment got the better of me, I suppose, when I turned to stare appreciatively at the resting place of the parents of my precious Ciel.

“Don't worry, I'll take very good care of him from now on. I swear on my own life to keep him safe. You can rest easy,” I told them. Their son looked up at me, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“You really intend to care for me even after I heal?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course I do. That is, if you will let go of your pride long enough to let me,” I said with a smirk. His one azure eye softened, beaming up at me in, what could only be, admiration. He turned back to his parents, though he was still carrying on his conversation with me.

“I miss them,” he muttered. It took me by surprise. There was that humanity that I hadn't really gotten to see much of from Ciel. Perhaps he was just feeling vulnerable at that moment. He must have been in a great deal of emotional pain. 

“They had to be wonderful parents, to have raised such a perfect son,” I said, not to flatter the boy, but because I truly meant it. He laughed again, leaving me in awe of his breathtaking smile. 

“They were wonderful,” he whispered blissfully, obviously immersing himself in his memories of them. With the photos on their graves serving as my guide, I could imagine what he might be seeing in his mind's eye; himself, a cheerful, wide eyed child, playing with a beautiful fair haired woman with eyes almost as big as his. Perhaps a man, with darker hair, but every bit as beautiful as his wife and child, sitting nearby, a newspaper in hand. The whole lot of them laughing loudly in playful delight.

Or maybe, the boy was imagining something far more sinister. Perhaps his head was filled with images of terror and death. It tore me apart to think that he may be plagued with the same dreadfully gruesome thoughts that I am. Except that his were likely very much real, whereas mine were just the by-product of paranoia and various other psychological disorders.

I allowed him to purge himself of his feelings of grief and misery as long as he needed to. To my surprise, only moments later, he turned back to me and spoke.

“We should be going. We aren't really even supposed to be here,” he said. I nodded and began to wheel him the kilometer back to my car.

“Was this your family's land?” I asked. It was a stupid question that I was sure I knew the answer to. Still, I wanted to hear it from his lips.

“Yes. This is where our manor once stood,” he explained solemnly. Not long after meeting Ciel, it was very clear that he was of noble blood. This I already knew. But to think that all this land once belonged to his family? 'Rich' probably wouldn't have been an adequate word to describe the financial status of the Phantomhive family. How terrible it must be to be born into such wealth and then have it all stolen away from you.

“Where is it now?” I continued. 

“It burnt down a few years ago,” he answered, surprisingly. It didn't take much more thought on my part to deduce what must have happened to Ciel's parents. That fire must have taken everything. . . it is a wonder that it didn't take Ciel with it as well. 

As per usual, my head began to spin with visions of a young Ciel, surrounded by raging flames and rogue embers. His tiny feet covered in ashes and his lungs full of black smoke. Screaming. . . crying out for the parents he no longer had. 

I spent the entire walk back to the car trying to shake away these thoughts. Once we were back on the road, I tried to strike up conversation with Ciel. It was a thirty or so minute drive back home and I couldn't allow it to pass in silence, lest I wish to torture myself with my disturbing thoughts. 

“Is there anywhere else you'd like to visit while we're out?” I asked him, almost sarcastically. He seemed to ponder it quite intently for a few minutes.

“No. . . I guess not,” he said indecisively, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“What's wrong?” I asked, taking my eyes off of the road briefly to ensure that his expression matched his voice, which it most certainly did. 

“Nothing. . . I'm not sure your mother is too fond of me,” he admitted. I just had to laugh.

“Of course she isn't. She doesn't like any of my friends, especially my female friends. Although, from what I can tell, she is being fairly civil. More so than she usually is, anyway,” I told him. He sighed loudly. 

It felt so marvelous to be able to carry on an actual conversation with Ciel. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was so uplifting. I lived for these rare moments when I could ask him a question and get a straightforward answer. I had to wonder, though, how much of it was a lie? How much of it was an act? He was quite the little actor, a talent I discovered he possessed before he ran away. He had me convinced then, that his condition had not improved at all, when actually, it had been alleviated almost entirely. I didn't want to let my paranoia get the better of me now, but I had to wonder if he was simply acting. 

“Not exactly civil,” Ciel said, drawing me out of my musings and back to our conversation.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, knowing that my mother must have broken her promise.

“Nothing really. She didn't hurt me physically, if that's what you're thinking. Just threats and insults, rather harmless ones at that. Still, I don't appreciate being attacked,” he explained. I was relieved that she hadn't hurt him in any manner. But, all the same, I was furious with her.

“Why didn't you tell me this sooner?” I asked him, surprisingly hurt that he kept it from me, for reasons I couldn't be sure of. 

“I didn't feel compelled to make anything of it, since it was such a ridiculous incident. I will say this though, I'm not the kind of person that can be bullied into submission. If she instigates another argument or insults me again, I will bite back, _hard,”_ he hissed. I was ashamed to admit that the images those words conjured up, paired with the wicked gleam about the boy's eye, made me shiver with delight. Since my mother was the topic of discussion, I tried to focus my attention, instead, on her, so that my blood would leave my groin and return to my brain. 

“I can't believe her! I specifically told her to be nice to you. She bloody promised,” I growled as we approached a red light. 

“Forget about it. It would be in your best interest not to acknowledge it, that will only make her hate me more. She won't be around for too much longer, right?” Ciel said. He was right, it probably would be best to pretend it never happened. I had to wonder, when had Ciel become my voice of reason? He seemed even more hot headed than I was. . .

“Alright. I won't mention it,” I agreed. The remainder of the ride home was quiet. I was so peeved with my mother, that it was all I could think about. It would take everything I had in me to ignore the subject. I never really cared about all of the other relationships my mother had ruined in the past. But I did care about Ciel. Sad it may be, but if I ever had to choose between Ciel and my own mother, I would choose Ciel, and I wouldn't have to think about it for one second. I was hoping that it would never come down to that.

Ciel seemed content to sit in silence. Apparently it didn't bother him quite as badly as it bothered me. We arrived home earlier than I had expected. I barely had to help Ciel at all, he was capable of handling almost everything himself, save for the stairs.

He wheeled himself into the living room and began glancing around the room cautiously. I knew he was looking for my mother. I, too, was rather curious to see if she had returned yet. A quick inspection of the house would reveal that she had not. When I went back to the living room, Ciel wasn't there. My heart began to race, an overwhelming rush of anxiety sweeping over me. I ran, instinctively, to my bedroom.

To my great relief, Ciel was there, lounging on my bed, his eye closed and a relaxed smile forming on his lips. I took a deep breath, still a bit shaken up, but just glad that he hadn't run away. I walked over to the other side of the bed and sat beside him. There wasn't much room, but I managed. He opened his giant eye, in surprise, when he felt the bed sink. 

Neither of us felt the need to speak. It was a comforting silence, which the two of us didn't share very often. Typically, the silence that passed between us was horribly uncomfortable and a bit depressing. But not this silence, not now. He was still smiling just slightly, his left eye sparkling in the lamp light. His round face and juxtaposing diminutive features (except his saucer-like eyes) took my breath away. 

“What are you looking at?” he chuckled, sounding a bit more his age than I think he meant to. I smiled broadly at him, not able to suppress my admiration.

“You,” I answered gleefully.

“I know that, you dunce. I meant why?” he said, with amusement still dancing across his exquisite childlike face. 

“Because you are beautiful,” I responded, simply. Though it was a risky thing to say, he didn't seem to be disturbed by it, although his cheeks did appear a great deal more rosy than they had been moments ago. 

“Please, Sebastian, save the acting for when your mother's around,” he snickered. Acting? How funny it was that we were both somewhat convinced the other was acting.

“It is no act, Ciel. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how gorgeous you are. I am certain I'm not the first to say it either,” I confessed, fearlessly. There was something about this moment, this night, that made me crave Ciel even more than I did before. 

I reached out and removed the slate colored wig from the boy's head and brushed his hair down with my fingers. His blush darkened when I brought my hand down to stroke his jawline. With audacious certainty, I leaned down and left a butterfly kiss on his forehead. He reared back a bit when my lips touched his skin, but he did not protest. I pulled away slowly, still in awe of his blinding resplendence.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered. 

“I wanted to,” I told him softly. He turned away from me, his brow wrinkling as his lips pouted, clearly in deep contemplation. Seconds later, he turned back to face me, his expression of deliberation now one of intense scrutiny.

“Sebastian? Tell me the truth, why do you want me here?” he asked irritably. 

“To keep me company,” I replied. It was the truth. Only a fraction of the truth. . . but the truth all the same. 

“Is that all? There's no other reason?” he retorted. 

“What other reason might I have?” I asked him, innocently. He cocked his head to the side, glaring at me as though he knew that I wasn't telling him everything.

“Why _is_ it that you don't have a girlfriend? You are fetching enough to appeal to women, I assume?” he asked, with one eyebrow raised skeptically. Such a clever boy. . . 

“You've met my mother. Besides, I'm too consumed with my work to date,” I explained. Again, it was true. Everything I told Ciel was true, I'm not sure I _could_ lie to him, not anymore. But it was wise to omit certain things.

“You hate your job,” he stated.

“That doesn't make it any less time consuming,” I told him, “Why are you asking me this anyway. You're not jealous, are you, my darling?” Teasing the moody boy was far too fun.

“You wish,” he groaned, rolling his eyes like the teenager he was. I laughed rather uproariously at his witty observation. Part of me did indeed wish that he was jealous of the prospect of me dating. But I knew that was not the case. 

“Don't worry about any ulterior motives, Ciel. You have no reason to distrust me,” I assured him. He seemed to accept this. “Come on, let's get you ready for bed,” I chuckled, helping him out of his day clothes and into his pajamas. 

As I was pulling his trousers up around his waist, he tapped me vigorously on the shoulder with his left hand, his cast pounding relentlessly into me every time he brought it down. I snapped my head up at him to find him staring blankly at the doorway behind me. Then I heard it; the piercing sound of a very familiar attention grabbing cough. I turned around swiftly, to see my mother standing in the doorway, her eyes opened wide and a devilish grin upon her crimson lips. 

“Mo. . mother?. . .” I stuttered gracelessly, “How long have you been standing there?” Once again, I was met with a feeling of dreadful anxiety. She turned a wicked glare to Ciel.

“Long enough,” she chirped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: You can check out the cover of this story [here](http://queen-of-rainbows.deviantart.com/#/d4jpz47) if you have time! 
> 
> Title: Swans are usually a symbol of love, due to their common practice of mating for life. Though beautiful, they are often times very aggressive and irritable


	20. Fawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's POV.

I stood there, frozen. In only a matter of days, my little facade had been discovered. My lies had finally caught up with me, which would possibly have a disastrous conclusion. Perhaps I could talk my way out of this messy situation. She didn't know the worst of it just yet. Even so, the fact that I lied to her to begin with would not sit well with her.

“Well, care to explain?” she hummed. 

“I. . . Yes. . Of course. You see, the truth is. .,” I sputtered ungracefully. My mother just folded her arms and glared expectantly at me. “Ciel. . Ciel is not a girl at all, as you can see. . In fact, he is a homeless boy that has been living with me for some time. I didn't want to tell you about him because I was afraid that you would turn him in.” Again, it wasn't a lie. I did fear that my mother would turn Ciel over to the authorities if she knew about him. 

She seemed to understand, by the way she unfolded her arms and softened her expression. I was truly amazed. It was the first time in my short life that my mother had actually taken something of this magnitude so lightly. I took a moment to let out a great sigh of relief, only to have that moment come to a horribly abrupt end.

Seemingly out of nowhere, there were dozens of papers flying at my face, I had to jolt back to avoid a paper cut to the cornea. When I glanced up at my mother, her right hand was outstretched (having just hurled documents at my face) and she wore a terrifying grimace. I bent down to pick up one of the discarded pieces of paper, ignorantly asking her;

“What are these?” I had my answer long before she opened her mouth to speak, but it didn't stop her from answering me anyway.

“Bank statements. First, you lie to me by dressing a homeless boy up as a woman, then, you spend your father's hard earned money on his hospital bills!? Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you right now, Sebastian!?” she screamed.

“Yes, I understand,” I said, trying to come up with some way for her to understand my motives on the fly, “But, let me explain. It was my name on Ciel's hospital bills. If I didn't pay it, it would reflect poorly on my credit.” It wasn't a very good excuse, but it was all I could think of. As I expected, she didn't care. I was still wondering how she got her hands on these statements in the first place. I kept them locked in my attache case, did she really pick the lock just to get a look at (what she should have assumed to be) lesson plans and exams. And when did she find the time? I was certain she wasn't in the house when Ciel and I returned home. . .

“You didn't have to put your name on his hospital bills!” she squawked. Before I could further explain myself, Ciel decided to speak up, apparently having had quite enough of this quarrel. 

“It is my fault Sebastian is in this mess, ma'am. If you're are going to blame anyone, blame me,” he said calmly. Even with my heart racing and my blood pressure slowly on the rise, I had to admire his bravery. My mother herself could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be, but it was the possible impact she had on my finances that scared me the most. 

“I _do_ blame you!” she yelled, taking a step closer to Ciel.

“I meant what I said before. I have every intention to pay Sebastian back every penny I owe him. Once I do that, he can reimburse your husband for the hospital bill,” Ciel explained politely. 

“Oh really, and how do you plan to do that, street rat?” mother chuckled. 

“I'm not sure yet. But I _will_ find a way,” Ciel answered confidently. My mother turned away from him with a loud scoff. With her eyes back on me, the pressure was on.

“We trusted you to use that money for your loans. Not only did you betray our trust, but you lied about it! Your father is not happy,” she scolded. My heart sank. The only hope I had left was that I could convince her not to tell my father, but now even that was out of my reach.

“You spoke with father already?” I practically whispered. 

“Of course I did. He is discontinuing your checks. Because of your dishonesty, you'll have to pay your loans off yourself. _I_ would suggest getting rid of extra baggage, if you want to keep your house, that is,” she hissed, glaring daggers at Ciel. Discontinuing my checks? For what? Being a good hearted humanitarian? Now that my mother had dropped that bomb, my fear transformed into an insatiable rage. 

“You'd rather see your own son living on the streets than forgive him just for being a decent human being?!” I screamed bitterly.

“You got yourself into this mess, Sebastian! I always told you that lying would get you into trouble! You are a grown man! And you should have had better sense than to take in a child off of the streets when you can barely take care of yourself!” Any semblance of reason I had left was now completely gone. 

“Very well, if you are going to turn me away, I will do the same to you! Now get the fuck out of my house!” I found myself screaming, with a finger pointing diligently to the front door. She didn't move. Instead, she just stood there staring at me in disbelief. Off to my left, I heard Ciel gasp. I can understand why. In the few months that he has known me, not once has he seen me quite so angry. My mother, too, was obviously quite horrified. Never, in all our years of fighting, have I ever spoken so harshly to her (at least not to her face). 

But now, I was finished with her lunacy. If I never saw her again, I would be perfectly satisfied. For years, all she had ever done was impose her will on me. It wasn't my fault that she had a troubled childhood. Why should I have ever been the one to suffer for it? Now that I understood exactly what I was to Emmalina Michaelis; simply a channel for her unfulfilled youth, I could finally be content to shun her, and my tight assed father as well. 

Still, after almost two whole minutes had passed, she stood there, a dumbfounded gawk staring back at me. With no patience left in me, I stalked up to her and aggressively shoved her in the direction of the door. She was now trespassing, after all. Besides, I wasn't hurting her. After all the various injuries she had sustained over the years, this was by far in the way the least painful. 

Despite that, perhaps out of shock, she shrieked. . . loudly. I wouldn't be surprised if this night ended in a visit by the local Bobbies. I gave her a forceful push out the front door, then (with the speed of a cheetah) I went back inside, collected her things into her trolleycase, and tossed it on the porch beside her. She still gazed at me in confusion, and now, with hurt. Her ruby eyes had reached their full capacity, causing streams of tears to spill from the outer corners and roll steadily down her emaciated cheeks. 

“Goodbye Emmalina. My regards to Robert,” I said before slamming the front door in her face. My bitterness was unrivaled, and my resolve steady. I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry for her. Did she ever, once, feel sorry for me? I was on my own now. It was up to me to find a way to make ends meet, for both myself and Ciel. 

My hands were shaking violently. I wasn't worried about Emmalina or Robert, neither of them would be a part of my life anymore. What I did worry about, however, was taking care of Ciel. How in the hell would I be able to pay off all of my debts, as well as my monthly expenses, on the measly salary I make now? It was literally impossible, I just didn't make enough to feed two people.

That didn't mean that I was willing to give up. There was nothing in the world that would make me give up on Ciel. The question remains, though, will he give up on me? 

I snapped out of my panic to realize that I had left him alone. My paranoia setting in once again, I rushed back to my bedroom, only to find that he had gotten into his wheelchair, and was beginning to make his way into the hallway. 

“Where are you going?” I asked cheerfully. My sudden mood change seemed to confuse him a bit.

“I was worried. I didn't hear any noises out here,” he explained. I kneeled down and patted his head.

“Everything is fine,” I muttered happily. He gave me a disbelieving glare.

“Is it really?” His tone suggested that he had already deduced how much this financial cut would set me back. 

“Of course it is,” I said. I wanted to believe it myself, but I wasn't so sure. But again, I couldn't lie to him. Even if it truly wasn't okay, I would do everything in my power to make it okay.

“She's right you know,” Ciel said, so quietly that I almost hadn't heard him, “Things would be much easier for you if you just got rid of me.” The gleam in his eye was forlorn but still, somehow, resolute. I got down on one knee, so that I was eye level with the boy, and cupped both of his round cheeks in my hands. 

“I don't care how bad things get, Ciel. I am never going to get rid of you,” I whispered. I felt a well of emotions raging inside my chest, just begging for release. Ciel took my left hand in his right and gently squeezed it. 

“You really should consider turning me over to the authorities. You can't afford to have me around anymore. Besides, even if you don't do it, your mother probably will,” he added solemnly. 

“Nonsense. I'll make it work. And I won't let anyone take you away,” I promised. 

"What if I wanted to go?" he asked sadly. Those words were enough to tear my heart asunder. If he truly wanted to leave, I couldn't stop him. I suppose I _could,_ but if it meant forcing him to stay, I would rather lose him. That fact alone was enough to astound me, considering I had been so frightfully obsessed with him in the beginning, and even still. The spell this boy had cast on me was akin to the magic of Arthurian legend.

“Do you?” was all I could manage to say. I still had time to change his mind. If, by the end of this trial period, he still wanted to leave. . . he would. 

“No,” he said, flaunting that angelic smile that I so loved to see on his face. I had to remind myself to breathe after a moment, having been completely floored by Ciel's answer. He was mine. Not because he had to be, because he wanted to be. Finally, I could rest easy, knowing that Ciel had no desire to run away. 

My glee was so overwhelming, I reached out and lifted him, gently, out of his wheelchair. He yelped in surprise, but didn't protest. I carried him over to the couch, where I sat, situating him over my lap. To my amazement, he didn't seem to mind.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked, a beautiful childlike innocence about his piercing sapphire eye. 

“I don't know, really. My job pays fairly well, but not that well. It likely won't be enough to live off of. But we'll be okay,” I told him confidently. He began to chuckle.

“How can you be so optimistic about this? On what do you base that statement?” he asked through his amusement. Bearing my new honesty policy in mind, I tapped him playfully on the nose and told him the truth.

“I have you.” For a moment I was left to believe I had gone too far, by the way that Ciel stared at me, seemingly in horror. Despite this, I had no regrets. It was the truth. As long as I had Ciel, nothing else mattered. 

Quite suddenly, Ciel buried his nose into my neck and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, a gesture that was certainly not typical of the Ciel that I was used to. That didn't mean that it wasn't the most incredibly delightful moment that I had ever experienced. Before long, his breathing had slowed and I no longer felt his dense lashes fluttering against my neck, leading me to assume he had fallen asleep. 

I wanted, more than anything, to stay like that forever but it would likely cause him more pain in the morning. So, I carefully lifted him off of my lap and carried him to bed, where I tucked him in and kissed his forehead before leaving him to his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Fawns are typically not only reliant on their mother most of their young lives, but often very clingy. Although this title still represents Sebastian's thoughts of Ciel, at the same time, it is also his thoughts regarding his own mother and how he has finally broken away from her, much like most young male fawns do.


	21. Kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciel's POV.

It was now early December. In the two months since her visit, we hadn't heard one word from Emmalina. Sebastian theorized that his father had convinced her to just move on. He probably figures that his son will eventually come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. If that is the case, then he doesn't know his son very well. 

Money had been more than just tight as of late. Somehow, Sebastian managed to keep the gas on. That was one thing we couldn't do without, this winter was proving to be one of the coldest that I had ever experienced. The electricity, however, had been out for almost two weeks now. It was a miracle that we were able to keep it going as long as we were. 

I absolutely hated that this was all my fault. Every time I insisted that Sebastian stop this nonsense and just turn me in, he made his refusal quite clear. (and stern) Secretly, I was glad that he was so adamant about keeping me by his side. Honestly, I don't know what I would do if I had to live with a foster family. That wasn't to say that I didn't feel guilty about causing so much trouble. If I hadn't come along, Sebastian would be living quite comfortably and wouldn't be buried in debt. 

My doctor appointments didn't help the situation at all. I had my casts removed about five weeks ago, which cost Sebastian a hefty price. Then there was my physical therapy sessions. Altogether, it added up to more than we could afford. We had to cut back on a good number of necessities, the most important of which was food. I suppose we were still quite lucky, as we still _had_ food. Just not much of it. 

I tried to convince Sebastian that I could recover on my own, without physical therapy. But, in pure Sebastian form, he demanded that I go. So, I did. It was miserable, as to be expected. It seemed as though everyone else was recovering much more quickly than I was. It took me almost a whole week to just find the strength to stand, whereas it had taken most of the class only a few days. I completed the class about two weeks ago, though I was still not able to walk comfortably. About a week later, I was finally beginning to feel a bit like my old self again. Before long, I could get around just fine without much pain at all. Although, now that it was winter, I felt some minor aches in my fibula every now and again, but my doctor said that was normal in moist weather. 

Now, it is rounding the end of six 'o clock on a Saturday evening. Sebastian went out to run his Sunday errands early, after hearing that there would be a snow storm tomorrow afternoon. As it would happen, however, the weather man was a day too late in his forecast. It was snowing so heavily outside that I wondered, for a moment, if I was dreaming of a white void, completely vacant of all life and substance. 

Sebastian had left me a battery powered radio, so that I could listen to music while he was at work. Mostly, I just used it to follow the Oracle investigation, which hadn't gotten too much farther than it had a couple months ago, as I expected. This sad little radio was our only connection to the outside world. I had been listening to it for hours, just cringing every time the traffic report told of an accident. Sebastian wasn't the most careful driver in London, and it was very possible that he might have gotten into an accident. He had been gone for most of the day. Since our phone had been shut off almost a month ago, there really was no way for him to call. 

So, I sat there, in the front window sill, eagerly awaiting Sebastian's safe return. Only time would tell if I would get my wish. I was shivering violently, even though I was snuggled tightly into Sebastian's bedsheets. The heat was on, although it may as well have not been. In an effort to save money, I kept it ridiculously low when Sebastian was gone. When he was home, he lit a fire. I was a bit too terrified of untended fire to have one going when he wasn't home. So, I usually turned the heat on low and sat in front of the heat vent. 

I was far too edgy to leave the window right now, though. I was sure I would see his black Nissan, even through the thick snow. But an hour had passed and still, he hadn't returned. Although I didn't want to admit it, I was terrified. What if he didn't come home? What if I never saw him again? 

I never expected that Sebastian would come to mean anything to me, but he had. These last couple months, though tragic, were the best I've had in years. For the first time since my parent's deaths, I felt happy to be alive.

As I gazed out into the wicked snow storm, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude for my raven haired guardian. If not for him, I would be out there right now. In the weakened state I had been in, I most certainly wouldn't have survived this winter. Though I had always considered burning to death to be the most terrifying way to die, I can't imagine that it would be any more pleasant freezing to death. In fact, it would likely take much longer. 

Another hour passed, bringing the short hand on the walnut clock to rest on eight. The sun was gone now, making the scene outside even more surreal and sending my heart racing. What began as worry was developing into panic. Where the bloody hell was he?

I perked up when, fifteen minutes later, I saw a blur of black pull into the driveway, surrounded by thick, heavy snowfall. I rushed to the door and forced my boots over my frozen feet, flinching a bit when I pushed a little too hard on my recovering leg. I threw on my coat, not bothering with the rest of the winter gear Sebastian had insisted on purchasing for me. 

With gusto, I ran out to meet him, just thankful that he made it home alive. He was groping around the backseat, trying to fit as many grocery bags as he could in his arms. I went around to the other side and picked up a few myself. He let out a barely audible gasp of surprise. It is quite queer how gently falling snow, when in abundance, can muffle any surrounding sounds. 

“What are you doing out here without your earmuffs and your mittens?!” he screamed, so that I could hear him, “You'll catch your death out here dressed like that?!” The center of his face, from his ears to his nose, were nearly as red as his eyes. 

“Then let's hurry inside!” I shouted, taking the few bags I could carry and rushing up the front steps, almost slipping on ice in the process. 

Once we were inside, we began to pack the groceries away. There was one bag that Sebastian was taking extra care to keep out of my reach. I shook some of the snow off of my head, the rest of which had already melted into my hair, leaving me damp and cold. 

“What took you so long, you barely got anything?” I asked, eying the rather depressing fodder. 

“Well, driving in this weather is not entirely pleasant. Besides, it's the holiday season now. The market is very busy this time of year,” he answered cheerfully. It was beyond me how he could be so happy after spending his entire Saturday standing in line at the market and paying bills. 

“What's in that bag?” I asked, pointing at the bag he had placed mysteriously high up on our useless refrigerator. 

“Nothing,” he hummed. I was quite irritated by his sudden secrecy. Still, it wasn't worth the drama of trying to force it out of him. So, I let it go. It was his money after all, he was free to spend it frivolously if he wanted to. 

We retired to the living room, where Sebastian got to work lighting a delightfully warm fire. I buried myself under the blanket and curled up in front of the fireplace. I expected Sebastian to sit down beside me, like he usually did. Instead, he giggled (presumably because I probably looked something like a tiny blue monster, bundled up in the blanket) and patted my head.

“What do you say to a cup of hot chocolate?” he asked, with a wide grin. 

“I say; that sounds nice,” I said, poking my head out from under the blanket to smile at him. He rushed off to the kitchen without a word. 

“So, when do you suppose we'll get our power back?” I asked, hopefully, through the bar connecting the two rooms. I knew we couldn't afford it, but I really wished we could. They barely mentioned the Oracles on that pathetic little radio, surely the BBC would have more to say about the case. Besides, I missed electricity. Living by candlelight was slightly horrifying. 

“I'm not sure. No time soon, that much I can be certain,” he answered, as he prepared the steaming beverage. “I still have to pay off your hospital bill, the physical therapy bill, my loans, and my car. We won't be getting our power back for quite a while if this keeps up.” 

“What if I got a job?” I asked, mostly out of desperation and guilt. I heard his laughter echoing through the kitchen.

“I'm fairly certain child labor laws would prevent you from doing any such thing,” he chuckled. I scoffed. Honestly, could he take nothing seriously?

“You know what I mean! Something small and menial, like dog walking or a paper route,” I groaned irritably. 

“It wouldn't be worth your time. Something small like that would hardly be enough to make a difference in our budget,” he sighed, walking back into the living room holding two steaming thermos cups. This time, he did kneel down and take a seat beside me, carefully handing me one of the cups. I set it down on the floor and unraveled myself from my linen prison, then I scooted a bit closer to Sebastian and covered our legs with the wrinkled blanket. He glanced down at me, a beautiful shimmer in his ruby eyes that I couldn't quite identify. 

“You've grown rather fond of me, haven't you?” he asked, softly. I couldn't stop myself from smiling. It felt so strange to smile. I was certain that I would never know the feeling again after my parents were taken from me. But I had been smiling so much these days.

“I suppose you're not as insufferable as I initially thought,” I said with a chuckle. I couldn't really tell if Sebastian's expression was one of extreme happiness or immense sadness. He was smiling, but his eyes seemed sorrowful. “Are you alright?” I practically whispered, despite myself. 

“Yes. Better than I ever have been,” he said quietly, still smiling like a maniac. 

“Why? What in the world do you have to be so happy about?” I asked unenthusiastically. I regretted the question immediately. The last thing Sebastian needed was for me to bring him down from his (questionable) high. Still, he just kept smiling.

“I have you,” he sighed, stroking my hair gently and giving me a chaste kiss on the forehead. I had long since gotten used to these displays of affection from Sebastian. At first, they were quite difficult to adjust to. I never really liked being touched by anyone, Sebastian included. I'm not sure when I grew to enjoy feeling him so close to me. All I knew, was that I did. 

He had also gotten into the habit of using that cheesy little one-liner whenever he had the opportunity. It was sweet and, obviously, very heartfelt, if his glassy eyes were anything to go by. But I still had no idea what he even meant by it. Clearly, it meant that I make him happy, I knew that. However, I couldn't help but wonder exactly why it is that I make him so blissful. I had been suspicious about his feelings for me ever since Emmalina's visit. 

“You always say that. What the bloody hell does it even mean?” I asked, annoyed, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. 

“It means, without you in it, my life is empty,” he muttered, scooting closer to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I didn't shy away from his touch, I couldn't. I was too intent on listening to his voice. “You ground me in ways no one else ever has, Ciel.” 

The thermos in my hands suddenly felt about fifty degrees warmer, as my body temperature began to rise. I wasn't exactly sure why Sebastian's words seemed to make my heart gallop wildly within my chest. 

Without warning, Sebastian abruptly stood and dashed into the kitchen. I tried to peek over the bar to see what he was up to, only to discover that I was too low (and it was too dark) to see anything. I heard a bag rustling and plastic snapping. 

A moment later, Sebastian was back in the living room, carrying a small chocolate cake, with a few candles blazing atop it. That was the big secret? A cake? I gave him a skeptical glare as he set it down at my feet. As if he could read my mind, he said;

“Don't tell me you forgot about your birthday?” My birthday? It couldn't be. . . And once again, I felt my heart begin to pound restlessly. Not only did I dislike celebrating my birthday. . . I had a profound fear of it. The 14th of December was the day that my life was destroyed. Fate delivered me to this world on that day, and, in a cruel display of power, it ended my life on that day as well. I didn't have much of a reason to fear it before I met Sebastian, as I had nothing left to lose. But now that I have found some semblance of happiness, I do stand to lose something. 

“Is it my birthday? It must have slipped my mind,” I said sheepishly. I was afraid. . . no, I was terrified that this day would bring with it a horrific tragedy. 

“Well, make a wish,” Sebastian chirped. I knew what I should have wished for, it was the very thing that I had wanted for years. But Somehow, I had no desire to wish for vengeance. Instead, I found myself wishing only for Sebastian, begging the powers that be to just let me stay by his side for as long as I could. I took a deep breath and blew out the candles.

Sebastian clapped merrily and removed the spent candles, then he got to work cutting the cake. It was the first sweet dish I had eaten in quite a while. I tried my hardest to forget my fears and savor it, but soon found that, as long as I was surrounded by fire, I could not push my worries to the back of my mind. 

After we finished, Sebastian took the plates and the remainder of the cake back to the kitchen. I sipped some more of my hot chocolate (which was rather cold by now) to try and calm myself. I knew it would only ruin the night if I let my fears take control of me. It would be midnight soon, and the day would be over. Thank goodness I actually had forgotten the date, otherwise I would have been in a frenzy while waiting for Sebastian to return home from the market. 

Sebastian returned moments later and took his place beside me. Once again, I covered him with the blanket and scooted closer to him. I felt a sudden need to be closer, much closer. It was such a foreign desire, but it felt remarkably good. I rested my head on his side, in response to which, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer still, with a contented sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: While occasionally aggressive, more often than not, kittens are quite lovable and affectionate. They, like most young animals, rely a great deal on others for care and sustenance.


	22. Flamingo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciel's POV again.

I was content to lie there in Sebastian's arms forever. It was so very warm and comforting. The deep, steady rise and fall of his chest was rocking me to sleep to the lullaby of his rapidly beating heart. This was what our nights had become in this last month. The cold weather made me open up to the idea of snuggling up beside Sebastian to keep warm. Incidentally, I found that I rather liked it. 

“How did you escape the fire?” Sebastian asked suddenly, almost in a whisper. Where in the world did that question come from? Whatever the case, I had to answer him. He had been waiting patiently to hear my story. I owed it to him. Granted, I'd already told him most of it.

“The Phantomhive family butler, Tanaka, pulled me from the manor. I'm certain I would have died, if not for him. I was struck motionless after finding my parent's corpses. If Tanaka hadn't found me, I would have gladly burned to death,” I explained. Sebastian brought his hand up to stroke my hair.

“You saw their corpses?” he whispered tragically. 

“Hardly. They weren't recognizable by the time I happened upon them. The flames and smoke made it hard to really see much of anything. But, somehow, I knew it was them.” He remained silent for a minute, still stroking my hair. 

“What about that eye of yours? Was that a result of the fire?” he finally asked. It was the first time that I had really spoken of my parent's murders or my kidnapping. Honestly, as painful as it was to put into words, it felt remarkably good to just release it. Almost like the words were manifestations of every little shred of agony that I was holding onto, and I was just letting them spew from my mouth like vomit.

“No, it was the result of senseless torture,” I hummed, almost happily, into his side. Sebastian remained silent once again, allowing me to elaborate. “After the manor burned down, I was abducted by a cult. They were the ones responsible for my parent's murders, as well as the scars all over my body, including my partial blindness. They call themselves 'the Oracles'. They have been all over the news these past few months,” I told him, glancing up to meet his eyes. They were narrow and enraged, and obviously quite disturbed. 

“I've heard of them. It's rare that I follow the news, but they have been the topic of discussion in the faculty lounge at work. Although, I haven't heard anyone mention your family. . .” he said with a deep scowl. “How did they blind you? And, more so, why?” 

“I don't know really. They poured some sort of chemical in my eye. I don't know what it was. All I know is that it was the most physical pain I have ever been in. As for why they did it, I can't be certain. I know that they killed many people. Their leader had them brainwashed. I don't know why they would choose to torture their victims as well, perhaps for the same reason,” I speculated. 

Sebastian brought his hand up to my right eye and slid my eye patch, gently, off of my head. I didn't bother to keep my eye closed as the cool winter air found it. After everything he had sacrificed for me, there was no questioning his loyalty. For the first time in a long time, I found myself trusting someone, with every ounce of myself. 

“You are still the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” Sebastian said, his expression alternating between that of admiration and horror. The moisture glazing his scarlet eyes glistened playfully in the inconsistent firelight. He looked (if at all possible) more handsome than he usually did. 

It was hard to deny that he was an incredibly handsome man, even for someone as stubborn as me. His features were not only beautiful, but aligned with perfect symmetry on his angular face. There was always a strange mystique about his mahogany eyes. No matter his mood, they always seemed mischievous. When he smiled, the very corners of his lips would curl up in such a devilish, yet appealing, display of bliss. 

Long gone are my dreams of Sebastian unhinging his jaw, in preparation to swallow me whole. Now, I could only dream of Sebastian as he truly was; a wonderful friend. Sometimes, although I never wanted to face them, I would dream of Sebastian being more than just a friend. I wasn't sure, at first, if these dreams were just my lonely, adolescent mind concocting images of things that my body craved or if it was what I truly wanted. I discovered the answer not too long after those dreams began, whenever my face would grow hot at the slightest, feather light touch Sebastian would slide across my skin. Even the innocent pats on the head would send my heart racing and my body yearning for more contact. 

I tried my best to hide it from Sebastian, which proved to be quite easy. What wasn't so easy, was hiding it from myself. It was moments like these that made it hard to forget just how badly I wanted him. Even more than that, it was moments like these that made it hard to forget just how I felt for him. It seemed to me, that his feelings for me were far more prominent than he liked to let on.

“Sebastian?” I began curiously. He kept his ruby gaze fixed on mine, his hand still resting on my right cheek. “do you suppose you love me? Be honest.” It was clear by the way he began to chuckle softly that he didn't take that question to mean what I meant it to. 

“Of course I do. Do you really need to ask?” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head. I craned my neck so I could free myself and looked back up into his eyes. He just gazed down at me, a confused furrow about his brow. 

“That isn't what I mean,” I muttered shyly. I was a bit ashamed of myself for being so passive. It was such an unfamiliar disposition. “That is, what I meant was, do you have romantic feelings for me?” That time, I managed to employ confidence and authority in my voice, as I was raised to do. (even though I didn't feel nearly as sure as I sounded) I knew I must have sounded like a child, but I couldn't be bothered to care. Sebastian, again, began to giggle. Honestly, does he ever take anything seriously? 

“What would make you think that?” he finally asked. The amused tone in his cheerful voice almost made me want to reconsider my inquiry. But, in true Phantomhive form, I persisted. 

“The way you talk to me, the way you look at me, the way you touch me. To anyone else, these things might seem innocent, but I know you better than that,” I explained effortlessly. When I first met him, the small obsessive things he did felt different somehow, almost artificial. Now, they felt so raw and tangible. He started to chuckle again. Apparently he found this conversation to be quite amusing. I'm glad he's enjoying himself. . . 

“Oh really,” he snickered through his mild fits of laughter, “you only just met me a few months ago.” I chose that moment to give him my most confident and cocksure smirk.

“That's all the time I need,” I teased, raising one fine eyebrow to make my point clear. “Now, stop avoiding the question.” His giggles slowly faded into one long moan of satisfaction. I stared at him expectantly, hoping that my dead eye would be enough to make him crack. I found the thing a bit creepy myself, honestly, although, I've only seen it once.

“What if I did?” he whispered, close to my ear. 

“Well, then I suppose that would make you a pedophile,” I said with an uncharacteristically hearty chuckle. Sebastian took my laughter as a sign that I wasn't disturbed by his feelings and joined me in my glee. I brought myself down, in turn, causing Sebastian to calm himself as well. “But I wouldn't mind,” I admitted happily.

I looked at the clock, only to find that it was twenty minutes past midnight. My birthday was over. . . and Sebastian was still here. 

“Sebastian, can you promise me something?” I asked, a bit more desperately than I intended. 

“Anything,” he whispered. 

“Promise me that you'll always be here,” I practically pleaded. I don't know what had gotten into me all of the sudden, but I just needed to hear him say it. He brought his hand back up to my hair and pulled me closer, placing a lingering kiss on the top of my head. 

“I promise, Ciel. You'll never have to be alone again,” he assured, his lips still buried in my hair. I could feel his warm breath brushing across my scalp. That was all it took to send tremors shooting through my entire body. 

Even though I knew there was no way to know if Sebastian could keep that promise, I believed him. Not just because I wanted to, but because I was certain that he meant it. As long as it was within his control, he would always be there for me. 

I found myself so incredibly lost in the moment, that I didn't even stop myself when my body moved of it's own accord. Suddenly, I was straddling Sebastian's hips, my arms wrapped loosely around his neck. I was only slightly uncomfortable once I realized just how close our noses were to touching. He gasped quite audibly.

“Ciel, what's come over you?” he asked, obviously not sure what to make of my newfound need for intimacy. Quite honestly, I wasn't sure what to think of it myself. However, my body was dominating my mind at the moment, leaving me rather ignorant to any coherent thought.

“I don't know. Perhaps it has something to do with puberty,” I purred, scooting closer to his chest, unintentionally grinding my groin against his. I couldn't suppress the violent shudder that consumed me as my entire body was overcome by an angry heat, unlike any other I had ever felt. “Is it a problem,” I hissed once I could find the words. The last thing I wanted was for Sebastian to notice how uncertain I was. Confidence was key.

“Not at all,” he murmured through his teeth, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me so close to him that I could feel our swiftly beating hearts pounding in perfect unison. 

“Good,” I whispered, my mouth only centimeters from his. Fearlessly, I closed the space between us, no longer able to resist the urge to taste his savory lips. Admittedly, I wasn't the most graceful kisser, but Sebastian didn't seem to mind. He entangled his hand in my hair and forced our swollen lips closer. Within moments, I found myself short of breath. I broke the kiss, but my mouth lingered in front of his, gasping for oxygen. 

The moment he realized that I wasn't having an asthma attack, he seized my lips in his once again, this time plunging his tongue into my salivating orifice. I was surprised to learn that, contrary to what I expected, even his tongue was a great deal larger than mine. That, of course, had little relevance, as I cleaved ever tighter to his taught frame and fought his unrelenting lips for dominance. 

He pulled back, panting, though not as heavily as I was. With a smirk, he tugged the blanket from our legs and spread it out on the floor. He, gently, removed me from his lap and placed me on the warm linens, hovering excitedly above me. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” I asked sarcastically. He smiled, trying his hardest not to laugh at my impertinence. After which, he wasted no time claiming yet another passionate, albeit clumsy, kiss. I felt his hands sliding, teasingly, under my shirt, groping at my stomach. It tickled a bit, but my impulse to squirm was eclipsed by the fire that burned ferociously under my skin, that his roaming fingers left in their wake. 

He eased my shirt over my head, then removed his own, tossing them both, carelessly, on the sofa. The freezing air pierced my bare chest like a thousand needles. However, the blazing heat pooling in my loins kept me sufficiently warm, it made for such an intriguingly magnificent sensation. Sebastian's knee was resting between my thighs, sinfully close to grazing my aching anatomy. 

I pulled him down for another kiss, this time feeling more adventurous, opting to abandon his sweet lips in favor of exploring his neck. His right hand clutched desperately at my hair, his throat releasing a guttural groan of desire as my venturesome lips fiendishly devoured the flesh along his collarbone. His left hand took refuge on my leg, pulling it up to wrap around his ass. I glanced up at him to discover his sinister vermillion eyes had rolled up into his fluttering eyelids, just for a moment, only to return back to me an instant later. 

It was clear to me that I was having a very keen effect on Sebastian. I had to wonder just how long he has wanted this. Perhaps the whole time he's known me? If that was the case, the very fact that he waited for me to make the first move told me that he really did care for me. It was a wonderful feeling, even if I wasn't entirely sure why he cared so much. 

Now that he had a green light, however, he wasted no time taking what he wanted. Without taking his eyes off of me, he moved his left hand down to my trousers and snapped the button open with ease. My heart was pounding so hard, I was almost sure it would explode. His nimble fingers worked my zipper down and then got busy ridding me of the pesky pants entirely. The only thing hiding me from his lust filled gaze were my underpants, which he soon made short work of. 

Feeling that it was a bit unfair, I pushed him over on his back and crawled on top of him. My tiny fingers struggled briefly to undo his trousers, but I eventually prevailed, and then proceeded to remove them from his lean frame. We were both now fully exposed. It was not nearly as uncomfortable as I would have expected. Granted, that was likely due to the sexual high that we were both experiencing. 

Then, I found myself quite lost. I knew what to do, but I didn't really know how to go about doing it. My nerves got the better of me. But I didn't want Sebastian to know just how uncertain I was. So I brought my hands to his chest and began to slide them along his pert nipples. He purred sensually and moved his hands to my ass, squeezing it tightly. I leaned down and kissed his abdomen, gradually leaving trails of kisses down to his pubic bone. 

It was there, only inches from his fully erect arousal, that I began to doubt my ability to see this through. I wanted to. . . I just wasn't sure I could. He noticed my apprehension and lifted my chin, gently, so that he could see my face. 

“Ciel?. . . is something wrong?” he asked sweetly, though I could tell he was trying his hardest to ignore the painful throbbing of his manhood. After seeing the aching need in his eyes, I was determined not to let him down. 

“Of course not,” I said confidently, “I'm just not sure that my mouth is big enough to accommodate you. But I'll make it work.” He laughed softly. I gathered every little bit of confidence that I had in me and took hold of his slick cock. Hesitantly, I licked the tip. It tasted bitter (although, not entirely bad) and surprisingly rich. Once again, Sebastian buried his hands in my hair. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and sheathed Sebastian's length in it as far as it would go. 

Contrary to what I had assumed, my mouth was in fact wide enough to accommodate him, but just barely. There was no chance of me fitting all of him in my (comparatively) small mouth. I took as much of him as my size would allow. He hissed breathlessly through his teeth, using my hair as a handle to adjust my speed to his liking. I gagged a little when he accidentally pushed himself too far into my throat. 

He gently lifted my head and released my hair. For a moment I panicked, convinced I had done something wrong. He lifted me off of him and placed me on the blanket, kissing the top of my head cheerfully, then he stood up and rushed off down the hall. I watched him curiously, as his naked form descended into the darkness. A moment later he returned, nothing amiss that I could see.

Once he sat down beside me again, however, I hardly had time to notice a small bottle being discarded on the floor before he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. He kissed me deeply, most likely tasting himself on my tongue. I faintly heard a small clicking sound, but was far too caught up in Sebastian's mouth to pay any mind to it. 

I moaned into his kiss when I felt his hands gripping at my ass. So involved in the taste of Sebastian's lips, was I, that I was taken completely by surprise when he slid his lubricated middle finger into my unsuspecting rectum. I yelped like a puppy, only to be quieted by my lover's lips once again. He probed at my insides ever so slowly. He knew instantly when he found what it was he was looking for, by the way I jolted up and screamed. 

“I'm going to add another finger, alright?” he asked calmly, obviously feeling guilty that he didn't give me notice the first time. I grasped onto his shoulders and nodded, anxiously. Tentatively, he pushed his index finger through the tight ring of muscles. It hurt, as did the first. But once it found that wonderful spot, the pain vanished, to be replaced by immense pleasure.

“Ah!” I shrieked as his fingers prodded at my sweet spot. I writhed about, feeling my muscles growing tight. Always privy to my needs, Sebastian noticed how close to completion I was. He removed his fingers, smiling warmly as he reached for the small bottle he retrieved from his room earlier. He coated his massive cock with a very liberal amount of the gooey lubricant inside the bottle. If my mouth was barely wide enough to lodge Sebastian's girth, I doubted that my ass would have an easy time with it either. Luckily, I have always been extraordinarily tolerant of pain. 

Painful it was, when I lowered myself onto it. The sensation was akin to what (I imagine) it might have felt like if David had been sodomized by Goliath. I dug my fingers into Sebastian's back, in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. He held onto my sides, humming pleasurably. 

I was terrified to move, fearing that if I did, I might rip in two. After another minute or so, he began to thrust up, at a gradual pace, into my aching entrance. It was excruciatingly painful at first. But soon, as with his fingers, the pain (though not replaced) was concealed by the tremendous ecstasy that filled me as his solid manhood pounded persistently into my undeveloped prostate. 

“Se. . .Sebas. .tian!” I found myself calling out, even though I was hardly even aware I was speaking at all. His hand found its way to my neglected erection and began to pump it rapidly. Before long, I lost any form of coherent thought. I vaguely heard Sebastian call my name through my bliss, but soon after, I was consumed by my vehement orgasm. 

As I was coming down, I felt a delightfully sudden warmth shoot through me as Sebastian released himself inside me. It didn't take him nearly as long to recover, and instantly, he was wrapping me up in his blanket. 

He carried me, with quivering legs, to our bedroom and set me down on the bed. He maneuvered his way into my warm cocoon and draped his arms around me. I immediately slid into a sex induced coma for the remainder of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Not to give anyone ideas or anything, but in case you were curious; the chemical used to blind Ciel, that he couldn't identify, was simply drain cleaner. The lye and sulfuric acid in drain cleaner is highly dangerous to the skin and eyes, making it one of the most dangerous chemical products openly available to the public. 
> 
> Title: Flamingos are one of the few species of any animal that forms strong, lifelong bonds with it's mate. XD


	23. Ciel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've arrived at the epilogue. It is in Sebastian's POV.

Spring came upon us faster than we had expected. Though it had been a troublesome winter, I felt that they were the best days of my life. Ciel was by my side every minute I was home. I never would have expected him to be so clingy. I figured he was just trying to keep warm at first, but when the warmer weather came, he didn't break his habit of curling up in my arms and falling asleep. It was more than I ever could've hoped for. 

Although he still had a hard time talking about his past (justifiably, I suppose), he was much more talkative than I had ever seen him. I found out soon that we had many of the same interests, the most prominent being our keen interest in sweets. But I also learned that he was raised to take interest in worldly topics, such as religion and politics (though he wasn't entirely immersed in either). I myself try my hardest to avoid those subjects, but that didn't mean I wasn't well versed in them. As it would happen, our opinions regarding various taboo matters were very similar, if not identical. 

Besides learning more about my darling little Ciel, the remainder of the winter was nightmarish. I struggled to keep (what was left of) my utilities on. There were several close calls with the water and we actually had lost our gas for a few days. I tried my hardest to keep Ciel warm but I found that he was so frail that even my body heat didn't do much to warm his shivering bones. 

By the middle of February, my mortgage debt became unmanageable. It was apparent that I would soon be losing my house, thus I decided I would need a more substantial job to be able to take care of Ciel. He was as patient as ever, not complaining once about living the way we had been, even though I could tell he wanted to. I applied for a job at the University of Bristol. Within a matter of weeks, I was contacted for an interview (I had bought a cheap cellular in lieu of attempting to pay my mortgage) and was hired on the spot. So, a week later, after my house was repossessed, Ciel and I packed up and moved to a flat in Bristol. 

The month of March saw things looking up for us. My new job paid much better than London Metro. I found that I could now afford to spend as much money as I needed on my bills, all the while gradually paying off my debts. I was even able to buy a few frivolous items for Ciel. I expected him to refuse them and insist that I return them, but he accepted them happily. Apparently he rather missed being spoiled. 

By April, I had decided (though I didn't find it all too necessary) to provide Ciel with home education. He agreed that it was best, further explaining that he loves to learn new things. So, every weekday, while I was at work, Ciel studied. When I returned home, I would administer tests to him, which he always passed effortlessly. I attempted to teach him how to play the violin but soon found that he wasn't nearly as good at learning new skills as he was at learning academics. But when it came to the matter of academics, he was diligent. He even insisted on attending a few of my seminars, under the guise of my nephew. I just couldn't refuse him.

It was now springtime and the weather was comfortably warm. I had expected it to be much more wet than it had been, not that I was complaining. I liked the rain, but only when I didn't have to be out in it. Unlike my old house, which was a simple 8 minute walk from my workplace, my new flat was about a 10 minute drive from the university. I missed being able to go home for lunch, but the pay was certainly worth it. 

I drove home from work (twenty minutes later than I should have been) on a beautiful spring afternoon, feeling a desperate need to see Ciel again, after the day I had. Oh, how I hated my line of work. The moment I walked in our tiny little flat, my adorable lover ceased his studies and met me at the door. 

“What took you so long?” he asked, with his head buried in my sternum and his arms wrapped tightly around my abdomen. Anytime I came home late he would scold me for making him worry. I could understand why, he had already lost so much. I scooped him up into my arms and gave him a needy kiss. 

“I'm sorry, love. About twenty of my students stayed late because they couldn't distinguish the rudimentary differences between ferromagnetism and paramagnetism. It was a tiresome day,” I sighed, setting him back down on the floor, “How are your studies coming along?” 

“Fine, but I'm kind of tired. I think I'm done for the day,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Oh? Since when did the child ever get to decide when his studies are finished?” I asked playfully, knowing well that Ciel would do whatever he pleased and nobody would tell him otherwise. 

“Since the child could easily lock the adult away on molestation charges,” he smirked. What a great brat he could be sometimes. It was always a delight though, even when it was irritating. 

“Aww, come now. You wouldn't do that, would you?” I whined, feigning concern. He just laughed and plopped down on the sofa. I took a seat beside him. He scooted closer to me and snuggled into my side, as had become customary for us. I never tired of the feeling of his tiny frame clutching onto my arm. 

There were times, as I would be driving home, that I would fear finding the flat empty upon my return. I don't really think I'll ever be rid of that fear. But it wasn't anything that I couldn't tolerate, as long as Ciel was there when I got home, to give me a warm hug and an eager kiss. 

I was almost sure that Ciel would have lost his appeal once I learned everything about him, but I have only become more interested in him. I had to conclude that, what had begun as an unhealthy obsession, had morphed into something far more dangerous; a boundless love. Of course, this I already knew. I never imagined that I would find love, especially not in the form of a boy nearly twelve years my junior. In fact, I don't think I wanted to find it. But I suppose no one ever really finds love anyway, love finds them. 

Our future was terrifyingly uncertain. There were so many ways for this to end poorly. However, I couldn't be bothered to care about the future at the moment. I had Ciel now, and that was all that really mattered. Whatever obstacles lie ahead in our future would have to be handled then. I glanced down at Ciel to discover that he had fallen asleep on my arm. Regardless of what may happen in the future, I could be sure of one thing; my little pauper would never leave me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I almost always leave open endings to my stories. The reason being, I love extending invitations to readers to continue them. Not because I am too lazy to do it myself, I just want to know what direction someone else might take the story. So, if anyone would like to pick up the story (or maybe do a little oneshot about Ciel and Sebastian's future adventures) please feel free. I only ask that you let me know, so that I may read it (and link to it, with your permission). Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Title: Sebastian no longer needs to compare Ciel's behavior to animals, as he now knows him well enough to see him for who he is. He is a class all his own.


End file.
